Awakening
by ollia
Summary: It takes a lot to subjugate the clan. It takes even more to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan.
1. Chapter 1

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

"I saw a girl with short hair in your house." They were sitting around the campfire: he, Izuna and Waraku. The younger boys were dozing off after the scuffle they just shared. Madara was looking into fire all the way along their playfight, which Izuna had won, as usual. He couldn't understand how did they have energy to do it after the entire day of journey, but when together, Izuna and Waraku seemed to always find additional reserves of enthusiasm.

They were coming back from a mission commissioned by Fire Country daimyo. The mission was in the end a success, but it lasted much longer than expected and the tension made Madara feel he had lost several years in the process.

They were supposed to escort a lady from the inner palace to a monastery deep in the mountains as she decided to become a nun. The lady must have fallen out from daimyo favour through her action, as only ten palace guards and three ninjas were assigned for her security. Three ninja boys, basically, and he was supposed to lead. After arriving to the palace and seeing first-hand what his appointment would be, Madara was torn between classifying this a deliberate financial rip-off against the Uchiha clan from the daimyo's side or an attempt to conveniently get rid of him from the side of clan elders. He would hope for the latter but common sense suggested the former. He was not that powerful to be noticed by higher-ups. Yet.

During their whole journey Madara felt like a sitting duck. The procession was moving excruciatingly slow as the lady insisted on going on foot. She said something about shedding the privileges and renouncing the mundane world. As far as Madara was concerned she could do her renouncing when in the monastery and get on horse while on the way to it. But of course, his opinion didn't matter.

They didn't carry much of valuables to speak of in form of material goods, but the assembly of court ladies that accompanied their mistress was making up for it. Madara bet that the price that each of the girls could reach on a black market exceeded even the ransom the palace would be willing to pay. Seeing those women up close he couldn't understand why. They looked like painted flowers. And painted by someone whose only reference were art scrolls because he never cared to venture outside.

The lady herself though, she was different. She had manners and presence of a person of highest breed, that for sure. But, there was something else about her, about the way she moved, about the way some otherworldly glow shone in her eyes. She seemed so serene and full of quiet joy as she was walking mile after mile in her grey robe and with her hair cut so that they didn't even reach her shoulders. That's why that girl came to his mind.

Waraku looked up to him and furrow his brows. "With short hair?" He scratched the back of his head. "Then it must have been Komachi. But it's been years ago…"

True, it must have been two years or so. But he could still remember the girl dancing, whirling in a white robe, her hair fanning around her. Divine light on her face.

"Must have been when Fugi died. They cut her hair to indicate she's a widow." Waraku continued.

Madara was really happy for his lifelong training in keeping his emotions hidden. "Aa," he said in the most uninterested and casual tone he could muster. He didn't want Waraku's attention right now. He needed to think. So her hair was cut for mourning and the dress was white for the same reason. That aside, the girl didn't look a grieving widow. She had been laughing. Her laughter still rang in his ears.

* * *

"And you're dead." Madara pressed kunai to Waraku's chest, younger boy's weapon dug couple meters away in the sand of the training ground. "You're more clumsy than usual today… Even disarming you wasn't really necessary. I could have as well just stepped into the stabbing range." Madara lowered his blade and turned away. "You will get killed one of these days…"

"That's exactly why we're training with you, aniki!" Izuna lifted himself up and dusted his trousers. Madara's kick sent him flying far enough not to interfere with his dealings with Waraku. Truth being told, younger boys' combo had not given them much of an advantage – what's the point in combination fight if one has to constantly cover up for another's mistakes…

But Izuna was nothing but persistent and optimistic. "We just need to synchronize better!"

Madara shrugged. He had already made mental note to do everything in his might not to have Izuna sent on dangerous missions together with Waraku. His brother could end up dying protecting his friend. No point in 'synchronizing better' if one party was just clearly inferior. Madara walked towards the bank at the end of the training field and took a sip of water from his canteen.

Waraku, completely unperturbed, followed and perched next to him. "What to do," he stretched and yawned, "I'm just not in best shape today. I didn't sleep much tonight."

It seemed to be a conversation starter but Madara ignored.

"Why? What did you do instead?" Izuna took up the bait as he joined them to dig out some snacks from his pouch.

"Want to know, don't you?!"

Izuna pouted. "Not really… But it seems like you really want to tell…"

"If you did what I did you would also want to tell… That travelling medicine seller that came by yesterday – he had a daughter with him.. Cute one, with curly hair, have you seen her?" Waraku glanced expectedly at Madara and Izuna, but didn't find the appreciation he was looking for.

"And what about her?" Izuna was probably a tad too young to get the implications that were obvious to Madara. And to Waraku apparently as well, as Madara just discovered with certain surprise.

"Well, I met up with her…"

"How? You don't know her!"

"I got to know her first! I went to their stand and we talked…"

"What about?" Izuna still sounded scandalized.

"Oh, I asked how is their business going, what places they've been to, such things… And I told her all about my adventures as a ninja. She was quite impressed."

"Meaning, you lied."

"Oh, don't be such a prick Madara. I just painted things in more positive colours. She will never realize anyhow, they set off in the morning."

Madara snorted and took out a polishing cloth from his pouch.

"And then I asked her if she wanted to go for a walk later on and she agreed. I came again in the evening and waited. When her father fell asleep, she sneaked out and we went to this cherry tree orchard behind the compound."

"The trees are not in bloom," deadpanned Madara from over his polishing work.

"So what. She liked it. She gave me a good luck charm." Waraku produced a trinket from his pocket and whirled it around his finger. "And you know what? She let me kiss her," he finished triumphantly.

Madara stood up. "You're pathetic. Wasting your time on such things." He knew that scolding the younger boy was only what everyone expected form him, but this time there was a real spite behind the usual nagging. Waraku's adventures had put his mind on unwanted tracks. Again. He was thinking about this girl back and forth since he had first seen her, and it only intensified last weeks after Waraku unintentionally gave him the intel on her. Not 'the girl', Madara corrected himself. He knew her name already. Her name was Komachi.

He turned and marched out of the training ground. His way home Madara spent analysing what made him so angry. He could never fathom that he would be envious about any of Waraku's traits. Yet here he was – resenting younger boy's way with people, this easy manner he could win everyone over.

Sulking, Madara decided that after he eats, he would go to his venture point to see if he could get a glimpse of her again. He had already long figured out which tree on the hill offered the best view into the courtyard of Komachi's wing of the house.

And then, when the night comes, he would go to see her.

* * *

She bucked under him so fiercely that he had to reinforce his hold. A girl, and untrained on top of it, and still he needed to put some strength into it. But it was more so because he could use only one hand and his body weight to pin her down. His other hand he needed to clamp her mouth shut. Any louder sound from her and everything would be ruined. Even though her lodging was set apart from the rest of the house, the walls were thin and the night too quiet.

She threw herself so hard that she almost shook him off. She trashed under him, managed to sneak her hand against his chest and pushed, effectively lifting him off her. Freed from the burden, she propped herself against the futon and he almost lost the grip on her mouth. But he didn't and she remained lying, anchored by her head. She whizzed in what must have been an enormous effort to move her head, but he held her tight.

This wasn't going how he had envisioned it. She seemed to be fighting for her life. Not a mindset he wanted to put her in. He needed to stop it.

"Stop struggling," he said. That won't probably be enough. "I won't hurt you." That also didn't come out very convincing judging how the movement of the girl beneath him became even more frantic. He reinforced his grip and tried to limit her movements. To hold her still, like in an embrace he didn't even wanted admitting the hope for.

"I will now hold you until you come to your senses enough to realize that if wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already long time ago." That finally had an effect he was aiming for. The girl stopped struggling and seemed to listen. Now was his chance. "I want to let you go but I need to be sure you won't scream. You won't scream, will you?"

Komachi nodded. Madara shifted his weight preparing to release her. But the calculated deep breaths she was taking clued him on the fact that it was a ruse. She must have seen it as the only opening she would get and she was preparing to scream her lungs out. He muffled her mouth tighter. "Oh no, you won't. And do you know why? Because I able to put you under a genjutsu quicker than you can make a sound." He was bluffing, he wasn't that sure about it. With the Sharingan activated he could see a lot of her, but the vision wasn't as clear as in the daylight when he indeed was able to notice muscles of chest and jaws at work before a person made a sound. But she wouldn't know that. "And when you wake up from my genjutsu I will have you securely gagged."

The girl's eyes widened. He could smell the sharp stench of fear coming from her. It was around since a while already, but now the intensity of it increased tenfold. Apparently the prospect of being rendered unconscious terrified her even more than the direct assault had.

"But I don't want to do it…" he said slowly, as if explaining something to a small child. "Screaming won't help you at all. I will stay here either the way, only that -" he decided that reiterating the threat would be prudent "- you will be unconscious. You don't want it, do you?"

The girl seemed calmer. Relaxed was a wrong word, but not strung like a bow ready to fire anymore. "I will let go and you won't scream," said Madara softly. He knew that putting too much authority into the voice could have the opposite effect than intended. It could suggest he needed to claim the authority, while she should think he had an upper hand already.

Alright, it was the time to risk it. He focused his Sharingan on her mouth and carefully removed his hand. No sound came out. He shifted and lifted himself off her. Released, Komachi immediately started to crawl away. He grabbed her ankle and yanked her back. "No. Stay here." She squeaked but he could see the effort she put in quenching the noise. It made him relieved as his threat seemed to be working. In the same time, it made him sorry that he had to operate on threats around her.

"Who are you?"

First time he heard her voice. He wanted to cherish the moment and celebrate it with the answer but he couldn't. "I'm not telling you this."

"Right. Of course." She said after a while. She paused and when she picked up again, she sounded inexplicably defeated. "Then, get over with it."

"With what?"

"With what you came for! Rape me, be done with it and leave!"

"Why do you think I would do something like that?!" It wasn't a very gratifying realization that it was the state of mind he just put her in. He was not expecting that and now he not only felt guilty but also ashamed of his lack of imagination. And then the implications of her belief hit him like a hammer. If she believed she was going to get raped, and chose to be conscious through it, chose to maintain whatever little command on her fate she had… She was truly something else.

"Why else would you be here in the middle of the night?"

She was putting a brave façade but Madara could hear that under brazenness there was fear. A vulnerable, terrified girl she didn't want to appear to be.

But why was he here? Good question. Madara acted more on impulse than on calculation. "I wanted to meet you."

"You did. You can leave now."

"I didn't get to know you up to my liking yet."

Komachi stiffened again. He realized how this what he just had said must have sounded to her.

"Why don't you come during the day? If you are that interested?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. Scared or not, she seemed to be determined to stand her ground at least mentally.

"I don't like asking for permissions."

"Oh, I see… I see as well that you are weak and unimportant enough to need permissions. Otherwise you would have just walked into here and claimed me…"

Madara didn't know whether to label it as an utter stupidity or to admire her courage. "Do you really think it's wise to provoke a complete stranger like this?"

"Do you really think that wisdom will help me in my current position?"

"Some civility wouldn't be bad…"

She didn't respond but he could see that she glared.

"Calm down. I said it already and I'll repeat it: I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then what do you want from me?"

 _'_ _Nothing. Everything. I don't want to take anything from you. Yet I want everything you have to give.'_ But that was too much to say.

"Let's say I'm interested in your company."

"You don't know me."

"Maybe I know you already a bit? And what I've seen a moment ago," he gestured at the disorderly futon, "only spurns my interest further."

Komachi hugged herself. "So, I shouldn't have fought, should I? I'll remember that."

Madara smiled – it was the first non-hostile retort he got from her. "No matter – I know already that it's how you are. And I like it…"

Komachi lifted her chin up. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know. What would you want?"

"That you leave?"

Oh. That hurt. He should have expected that but it still surprised him. There were on completely different planes here. Taking into account the amount of distress he caused her already maybe it would indeed be better to oblige to her request. That would hopefully prove his good intentions. "Alright. I don't really want to, but I'll leave. I'll come back though, and next time it would be better for us both if you don't struggle so."

He got up and walked towards the sliding door opening to the garden. "Oh, and don't bother to arrange for guards. I will be able to sense them and there is no way for you to convince anyone to guard you forever. And I am patient. I can be very patient when I'm set on a goal."

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and I would love to hear your opinions. This story is the biggest challenge I encountered so far, and on top of it, unlike with my previous fics, I decided to start publishing before it's completed. I would use all help I could get, so please tell me what you think - about this chapter and about all the next ones.


	2. Chapter 2

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 2**

* * *

"I don't know you, stranger." Komachi was sitting upright on her bed, stiff and on her guard. When he woke her up, she didn't scream, but he could tell she was afraid.

"What do you want to know?"

"Your name, to begin with?"

Madara sniggered. "Do you imagine I will be telling you _this_?"

"You told me to ask…" A pause. "Won't you ask my name?"

"I know your name. It suits you, it's pretty."

The next silence felt embarrassed. "Then, how do you look like?" she asked finally.

"Like any other Uchiha."

Komachi snorted. "How old are you?"

Madara hesitated. "I… I don't know…"

"You don't know?!"

"No," he answered flatly. "How old are you?"

"I will be eighteen soon. In couple of weeks."

It was his turn be surprised. "How come you know it so exactly?"

"Oh, my mother told me she was expecting me on summer solstice, but I came only two weeks later. It's easy to remember. Your mother never told you such things?" She paused waiting for an answer. When it didn't come, the next question was phrased with so much care as if she was walking on a thin ice. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead." That piece of information he could reveal. More people had dead parents than not.

"Siblings?"

Careful now. With this intel she can get somewhere. "Some…"

"Ugh! You're so infuriating! You don't answer any of my questions!"

Madara lied back, stretched himself on her futon. He knew it was annoying her, but that was exactly his intention. Better annoyed than scared. "Because you don't ask the correct questions."

"So, can you suggest me some questions that I could ask?" It sounded as if she put all the sarcasm she could muster into her voice.

"Why don't you ask about my likes and dislikes for examples? About my dreams?"

"Ever came to your mind I might not be interested?!"

Madara kept silent. Coming to think about it, sure she wasn't interested. She just wanted to triangulate his identity. Not get to know him. He wanted sight but then she spoke up. Pity only that the tone was in part such that one uses to humour a child. And in part irritation.

"Fine. What do you like?"

He decided to ignore the undertones for the sake of trying harder. "Apart from obvious things like fighting and winning?"

"Apart."

"Birds. Flight. Open skies."

"Oh."

"What 'oh'?"

"Nothing." Irritation again, but this time mixed with something else. With sadness?

"It wasn't nothing. Tell."

"I just thought about what would I say if someone asked me this. And it would be somehow similar. But nobody ever bothers to ask." She finished with bile in her voice.

"I am asking. What do you like?"

"Being outside. Seeing the sky above me. That's why that what you said startled me so."

* * *

"Okaa-sama, how old am I?"

"Why asking this out of the sudden?" Tatsu stopped the comb going through her hair. "I would need to count, let me think…"

She was silent for a while and resumed her combing, but Madara knew better than to interfere. Tatsu never liked being rushed. Indeed, a moment later, she picked up. "After you, Kiyo gave birth to Takaya."

It seemed it was going to be a longer tale. But it didn't bother Madara, the memories of the past were mostly more joyful than the thoughts about the present. The image of his birth mother came to his mind. His mother, like glimmering stone; he didn't remember that much about her except for her eyes and how she could look right through him. She seemed to see things in him, things he himself had no idea about. But he always had impression that whatever she had seen in him, was a source of distress.

He remembered the clans' women coming to her. When asked for the reason of those visits, Tatsu would sometimes tell the kids to mind their own business, and sometimes, when she had been in a better mood, she would say that mother spoke to gods on behalf of those women. Some other times she would say that mother was taking a look into their souls. What was his mother really doing Madara never truly learned. But, for as much he could recall, he had been always in awe of her.

Tatsu, the other wife of his father, his second mother, was more straightforward. She would scold and punish him when it was needed but she never questioned what was he doing. She kept her yearnings and resentments well visible and for most part those were convergent with his own ones.

Looking into the space Tatsu continued. "And then she gave birth to a girl, soon after I gave birth to Izuna. You were three then."

Madara looked up surprised.

"You cannot remember." Tatsu explained. "The girl died when she was a month old. Saho, we called her. Then I gave birth to Ayu, you must have been between five or six at that point because you have been already taken on your first missions." Tatsu's fingers were moving swiftly, forming the braid. "Then it was supposed to be another girl for your mother, but it also didn't work."

"This I think I remember - mother being pregnant and then she wasn't anymore."

"She miscarried. Out of stress when we believed that you and Masaru were captured by the Inuzuka. We didn't find your bodies so all we could do was to imagine you both in captivity and tortured… You have no idea what it is for a mother to feel so helpless…"

"We ran from the battlefield and hid. Masaru found a cave. Or rather it was a den. A fox den. We crawled in and we waited. The smell of foxes masked our scent from the Inuzuka. We were afraid to go out and that's why we stayed there so long."

Tatsu finished her braid and threw it over her shoulder. There were only single streaks of white in her hair, and in the braid they looked like scales on the tail of a dragon. "You two got lucky that time. Either the way, none of our girls lived… If they had maybe they would have still been here… Girls don't need that much luck to survive." She stared in the distance. Madara knew what it was – out of house full of people only she, Izuna and himself were still around. And he knew that with each mission he and his brother were taking Tatsu was making her silent goodbyes, knowing she couldn't do anything to keep them safe.

"So, when Masaru got killed you must have been eight or so." His second mother took up the counting, without a trace of pain in her voice. Madara remembered how she howled when her firstborn was brought back from than accursed skirmish against the Hyuugas. Now, after a decade and all of those other deaths, for Tatsu it was just another fact to be stated.

Madara remembered it too well. Masaru splayed in the middle of the yard, so white and motionless but with not a single external injury. Madara was told he was dead and it took every last shred of his strength not to throw himself at him and yell for him to wake up. Losing Masaru was more than just losing a brother. Due to negligible difference in age, they shared an understanding he never had with any of his other siblings. But there was more to it. With Masaru dead Madara became the eldest. The weight of responsibility that dropped on him that night had been crushing him ever since.

"Next winter your mother died," Tatsu continued. "And I had one more boy a year or so after her death. He almost killed me and didn't make it alive either. You were eleven at that point. Then I couldn't have children anymore so the count of years is somewhat lost. I'm sorry, after that it's all a blur. I guess you must be sixteen. Or maybe seventeen…"

* * *

"Why are you here again?"

"I wanted to see you?"

"You can't see me. It's dark," deadpanned Komachi.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"What about? You don't want to reveal anything about yourself. And, guess what? I don't want either!"

Madara resisted the urge to sigh. Why was it going so awfully difficult with her? He was trying his best and the only responses he was able to awake were either anxiety or hostility. It stung and his patience was wearing thin.

On top of that Komachi wasn't done with her outburst just yet. "You come here, you wake me up in the middle of the night, you rob me of my sleep, and then you sit there sulking! You're not only a pest. You're a bore!"

He could read her that much already – the more insulting she was, the more she was trying to cover something else up. Probably fear.

"Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared!"

"There is no shame in it. But there is also no reason for fear. I won't hurt you."

"You always say it, yet you keep coming!"

"But I didn't hurt you so far, did I?"

She didn't answer. The notion that it can change any moment was hanging in the air, palpable to both of them. It was evoking a sense of responsibility in Madara, yet another weight on his shoulders. But he knew that in her it must have been bringing forth only a gut-wrenching fear. It was up to him to make her feel better. "Alright." He set his tone into a mock courtesy." How can I entertain the lady?" he asked referring to her previous complaint.

He could only see the barest outline of her silhouette now when he deactivated his Sharingan, but he had impression that something in her posture relaxed.

"Tell me a story," she said finally.

"What story? What kind of stories do you like?"

"I like all of them. But from you maybe I can hear something about the big, wide world…?"

Madara considered the topic for a moment. He didn't travel that much around and he should be careful not to talk about a location where only few from the clan had been sent.

"Fire Country Daimyo. Have you heard about his court?" That was a safe choice. Daimyo had been reaching for Uchiha clan on regular basis for both military support and for espionage since decades.

"Not too much…"

"The court is placed north from a big merchant town. It's sorts of a settlement on its own, a walled enclosure, but otherwise it's not particularly well fortified. Daimyo's palace is in at the northern end of it, the ceremonial part on the outside and the residential in the inside. We've been only to the official parts of course, but I heard that the Inner Palace is most magnificent. Anyway, in the parts we saw there was so much wealth, you would not believe it. All the walls were painted, each and every wall. There was a chamber painted with tigers and pines. And another that was made to look like a garden. All the ceiling beams were sculpted. Floors made out of strange, colourful sorts of wood. And the courtiers… They speak softly, they smell with perfume on kilometres and their clothes… So garish. Completely unpractical of course, but maybe you'd like them." He strained his memory at the description of the garments the court ladies wore." The women wear so many layers of cloth, I don't know, it looked like ten of fifteen, each layer in different colour. The outer ones were embroided on top of that. You'd probably like to know more details but I cannot really describe. They were… very colourful. In a glimmering sort of way."

"That's alright, I'm not that into it anyway."

Madara looked up in surprise. Whatever limited knowledge about girls' stuff he had, it was always centering around clothes. "Really? Then what would you want to know?"

"How people live there? What do they do all day, when they don't have to struggle to survive? Are they happier than we are here?"

"Honestly, I have no clue what those people do whole day. To me it looked like they were walking around and whispering in the corners. And no, I don't think they are happier."

"Why?"

"They are at each other throats, everyman against another. There are no friendships there, only unstable alliances. They plot, construct intrigues to defame their political opponents, to have them fall out of daimyo's grace. Those fallen out of grace are sent to far away provinces and they believe that's like the end of their lives…"

"And the women?"

"Palace women do the same, they compete for daimyo's favour, and their intrigues are even more deadly. While officials get send away, the court ladies tend to fall inexplicably ill and die off. So, they are even worse, it seems. And all that to climb in favour of one man, which is the worst of them all."

"Is he?"

"Couple of years ago, the current daimyo had his own son and heir locked in a chest. Apparently he was dead already after the eight day."

"Why?"

"They say the prince went crazy. That it was a prudent political move."

"But why in the chest?"

"Because of some stupid taboo. Not spilling your own blood or some other bullshit."

"That's disgusting…"

"It is. Those nobles, they don't even have the courage to do their dirty work themselves. They either have us do it, or resource to such atrocities…"

"I meant it's inhumane that what was done to him. Being locked up alive, like in a coffin. To stay there for how long? Days? Weeks? I wouldn't wish it even to a worst monster. I cannot even.." Komachi shuddered and hugged herself.

Madara glimpsed at her – now he managed only to upset her. Immediately, he regretted getting pulled into the story so much to forget the purpose of telling it. "Sorry I've told you that."

"No reason to be sorry. I… I know it's the way the world is. That big, wide world I wanted you to tell me about. It's built out of man-made horrors."

"Not only… There are not only horrors out there…"

Komachi shook her head.

"Let me tell you something else?"

"What?"

Madara pondered – what should he tell to make it soothing? Everything he knew from the outside world was fighting, everywhere that people stepped the earth was soaked in blood. Everywhere that people stepped… maybe that was the point…

"There is a river, some two hours east from here…" Maybe that was a solution - he shouldn't be talking about people, then. "In some places it's rather narrow, narrow enough to skip a stone across, while in others it meanders and splits into multiple streams. There are sandbanks and patches of gravel divided by countless little torrents… Each spring, after the snowmelts it looks differently, it's re-shaped. Same happens after a flood. Each time I come there, I'm half apprehensive and half excited about what I will find." Madara paused, calling the images of the riverbed into his mind. "But there are always some new nice places - patches of gravel you can sit on. Shallows where you can cross. Basins where you can swim. Along the smaller water-arms the herons fish… When you come there at dusk you see them standing by the waters, like specters. So still. You notice them only because they are all white…"

He decided he would omit the description of hunting, even though the aerial battles his falcons had with the herons were the most exhilarating lethal ballets. But this was supposed to be Komachi's goodnight story, it wouldn't do to put graphic details into it. Again. He was already wanted to kick himself for the previous story. Plus, her reaction to it made him inexplicably ashamed of his hunting activities. Now he thought he should have rather left those herons alone.

* * *

And he came again. Not unexpectedly, as she had already figured out his patterns – he would either show up during the new moon or he would wait for a very cloudy, dark night. It seemed that he really didn't want to be seen. This was a tiny bit of consolation – that the aggressor also had his worries. That he wasn't all powerful.

But even though Komachi was mentally prepared, his coming still granted her that blood-freezing moment of terror. She forced her fear down, it would do her no service. Everything can be taken on if one has a calm mind.

But it was so hard to keep her head cool around him. Firstly, he _was_ scary. She wasn't trained as a ninja but she could sense something about his chakra – not only there must have been more of as normally she wasn't able to sense chakra at all, but there was also something qualitatively different about it, it was eerie and choking.

Then, there was his behaviour – Komachi didn't know what to make out of it. He was breaking in – clearly an aggressive action, and then all he did was to sit and attempt to talk to her.

It would have been easier to tackle if he had just proceeded with violence. Yet he acted as if he cared. Cared even if no one asked him to.

He sat down, again too close to her but this time Komachi didn't crawl away. Tonight, she was determined to control her reflexes better. To stay unperturbed and collected, whatever befalls her. Because in addition of making her scared, had a gift of making her angry. He was provoking her, so she kept biting back. He was so presumptuous that she ended up offering resistance, if only to spite him. But anger and helplessness were a very bad combination. Whenever she thought about his previous visits, she was vexed by her own reactions. She should have just sat meekly and keep reminding herself that was being done to her didn't matter.

Because it didn't. She worked so hard to push her needs and yearnings out of her head. It was a self-preservation measure; a skill honed to near perfection in order not to go crazy being trafficked and forced into the marriage with a man she didn't know, and when she got to know – didn't want to have anything to do with. Later Fugi died and her immediate circumstances improved, but her situation remain precarious. Komachi was well aware that she will be sooner or later placed into another marriage. Not knowing what was going to be done with her, Komachi strove to quench all her emotions. She meditated and prayed and hoped that one day she will be able simply not to feel anything. That she will become immune to the world around her.

And now this man was breaking in. By the fear he was inducing, he was making her realize that she was still very far away from her goal. And with his questions, mocking answers and arrogance he radiated – he was pushing her buttons.

She thought she had things sorted out. If she did her chores in the household and kept her mouth shut, she would be left to her own devices. From how the things looked, the family designated her as a bride for their youngest son. And since the kid was still rather young, Komachi expected couple of years in peace. And she welcomed the prospect – that meant staying in a household she already knew and managed to get accustomed to.

In retrospect, it was a silly hope. Those so weak that have nothing for their defense should never allow themselves to hope. Hope and helplessness were also a bad combination…

"Can I ask you something?"

Here he was, asking questions again. ' _Don't offer resistance. It only excites him. He likes the thrill._ ' Komachi reminded herself and nodded the agreement.

"What is that _you_ want?"

Komachi froze. Was he able to read her mind or what?

"It's not important at all, isn't it?" She managed finally.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

He wasn't getting her state of mind at all. How could he? If he wanted something, he would just wrestle it away from fate. He would never get what her life was like. But it was so tempting to indulge for once… Komachi bit her lip. "Freedom… I want freedom. I want to decide about myself, to be able to do with my life as I wish."

"And what would you do then?"

 _'_ _No, don't think about it.'_ Komachi felt her throat constricting. _'Don't think about it. It will only hurt. Don't let it flicker to life in from of your eyes…"_ Too late, there it was.

"In a perfect world? Where I am more capable than I really am? I would walk away. Away from here, from the clan, from all the people. I would go into the mountains and spend rest of my life there. Hoping nobody ever comes."

…

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I cannot do it… Because I'm too weak." A defeat. Too weak to do it, and apparently as well too weak to guard herself against the desire.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading, and would love to know what you think about it! And thank you to all those who commented so far - I hope I won't disappoint, and please help me to stay on track.

A small disclaimer: my goal is to keep this story consistent with the worldbuilding about Madara's past I did in "Dreamt" and "Gen to Yume". Also, I finally have an opportunity to indulge in my headcanons a bit - hence the infodump (sorry about it)


	3. Chapter 3

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

"Gather the ones posted on the left wing and bring them here. I'll go collect the rest." Madara stood up from the branch they were perched on and adjusted his weapon belt.

"Why? They are supposed to monitor the enemy's movements and report to the war council."

"The Fūma have set up a camp and there will be no movement until dusk. We can retreat and face them tomorrow on the battlefield, or we can deal with them now. By the way they camped, they've created a perfect opening for us."

"It's not what the plan was, aniki…"

"Opportunity is presenting itself, that's far more important than some plan. Just do how I've told you."

Izuna sent him a grim look and hesitantly got up on his feet.

It was clear that he was conflicted between the official orders and his brother's directions. ' _Ah, Izuna, being obedient isn't easy, eh? You have to keep choosing whom you will obey._ ' Madara realized he needed to push him a bit more. "Izuna? Just be careful," he said.

Izuna snorted and jumped into the branches. _'Works each time.'_ Not that Madara wasn't genuinely concerned about his brother safety. Only that telling him to be careful always worked as the best incentive. Izuna would get aggravated and do whatever was in question.

This strategy had also an additional, hidden benefit – Madara could voice his worries without feeling ashamed. It was so good to say what he felt from time to time.

.

There was a good dozen of Fūma shinobi guarding the perimeter, but they were quickly eliminated. It was enough to take one of them down, and copy his appearance. Madara thanked the gods that he had a man skilled with realistic genjutsu in his squad. He put the exact appearance of the killed guard on several of his squad members. They easily got into their range of Sharingan genjutsu to eliminate the remaining enemy ninja.

With his squad perched on the viewpoint over the camp, Madara waited.

He hated sending Izuna so close to the enemy camp, but his ability was unique and crucial for the plan's success. All the others were Fire users.

Just the same, he had Izuna constantly within eyeshot, and watching from the above Madara was sure he would be able to detect any opponent approaching his brother.

Izuna reached his designated position. Madara counted to ten in his head, focused his chakra and gave the signal. Six jet streams of fire exploded from behind him and joined his flame. Like one column of fire they fell down onto the enemy's camp.

Flames reached first tent and were quickly spreading. They kept feeding the fire, but their power alone would not have sufficed to do the job fast enough. That was Izuna's function. Madara saw his brother forming the seals. The fire exploded. Gusts of wind swept between the tents, powerful yet skilful enough not to blow any of the smaller flames out. Wind fanned the flames and made them burn white. And then blue.

Tents, bushes, tree branches, all was disintegrating in the inferno. Those ninja who managed out of the tents were already in flame and the fire guided by Izuna was chasing them down. Most didn't even manage out.

* * *

"I want to see how you look like."

"No way I'm letting you put the light on."

Komachi let out a displeased snort. "Afraid you won't be able to run away fast enough?"

"I have enough of being on my guard during the day. Is it so hard to understand?"

She fall silent and Madara would swear she was pouting. "And I don't want to be going just yet."

"Alright. Come here, you jerk," she spat out at last.

Madara moved towards her so that he was crouching right next to her. Komachi grasped blindly to find his shoulder, patted it to get an idea what body part it was and moved her hand towards his face.

"Don't move. Maybe this way I will get an idea." Her second hand followed. She was moving her fingers methodically across his forehead, along the eyebrows. Madara clenched his eyes shut just in time for her to brush over his eyelids. Komachi slid her thumbs across his cheekbones while her other fingers went along his jaws. "It's not working at all! That's bullshit! I cannot imagine how you look like…" Disappointment was peeking through her irritation. She moved her hand towards the middle of his face so that her fingers brushed over his mouth.

When she was about to move away them Madara caught one of her fingers with his lips. Just the tiniest resistance but it stopped her movement. He didn't expect that, he wanted only to rile her up a bit more. But her touch put his mind onto surprising tracks. He parted his lips just enough and touched the tip of her finger with his tongue. She didn't withdraw her hand. He ran his tongue across the fingertip. She still didn't move away. He could taste her - a curious taste, Madara didn't remember ever consciously tasting human skin. Blood - yes; sweat obviously as well; he liked the salty taste of both. But this was different, the taste wasn't anything special, rather tart but the awareness where it was coming from was exhilarating. He sucked, catching the fingertip between his teeth. Komachi made a strange sound, something between inhale and a whimper. Quite a change from her usual stand-offish attitude. It seemed like he finally gained some upper hand, though it wasn't entirely clear for him why it was the case. More confident now, he ran his tongue along her finger and then back to the tip. Komachi's other hand fell limply to his shoulder. Madara licked another of her fingers and then maneuvered it into his mouth. Komachi gasped and gripped at his shoulder. He didn't stop sucking and she dug her nails into his shoulder blade with a strength that surprised him. It spurned something in him, he wasn't sure if it was annoyance or something else, but he grabbed her wrist, easily breaking her grasp on him, and twisted her arm the way she fell on her back as her body reflexively avoided injury to the joint.

Madara landed on top of her, as not letting go her wrist suddenly seemed like a good idea. She wasn't struggling at all, whether it was because of that grip on the wrist or that deal with the fingers. For once Madara wished she would move. He had an inkling that feeling her body moving under him would be very pleasurable. But she didn't, and she only lied there breathing heavily. Even without Sharingan, even with eyes closed he could tell where her lips were by the breath he felt on his face. He didn't know exactly what he wanted from her at this moment, so he leaned down and kissed her.

This was when she reacted - she bucked back trying to shake him off but Madara just became sure what it was that he wanted. He felt a nipple through the thin robe and now he wanted to get to it.

He tugged at the belt, but the knot only tightened up, so he pried open Komachi's robe and kissed down her chest all the way to the nipple. It was mesmerizing – such a hard pebble in the middle of all that softness. He put it in his mouth and ran his tongue across it. Komachi tried to push him away, but it was erratic, as she was jolting one time after another in synch of his kisses. The sides of her robe were all open so not stopping the sucking on her breast he reached below her waist. Now, that was an unknown territory, Madara scrambled with his fingers in a place that was hot and moist in the same time. Komachi doubled her efforts to get away from his hand.

"Tsk! Careful!" she cried out finally, when she must have realized that he was not letting her go. Madara halted his hand and looked up to her.

Komachi took a deep inhale. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

"I'll figure it out along the way."

"Hey! Wait up! What do you mean with 'along the way'?!"

But Madara paid her no heed as he busied himself with his trousers.

She tried pushing him away, but he took better hold of her waist.

"Don't struggle. Please. Just don't." He peppered kisses along her neck in an attempt to calm her down. "It won't bring anything except for making it difficult."

Komachi took a deliberate breath as if letting something go. Then she moved her arms so that they were resting on his back and stilled.

He had indeed no idea, but how he was lying, nestled between her legs, it felt perfect, it felt just right. So he pressed against her and at some point there was no more resistance, only heat and tightness. The feeling of being buried inside her… It was all he imagined it would be like, and more. He planted one more kiss on her lips and set a rhythm.

Komachi's breaths were coming erratic, uneven and accompanied with strange little noises. Because of those noises, it seemed to Madara to he was too heavy, that he was crushing her. He wanted to tell her to endure just a moment longer so he lifted his head and through the Sharingan saw her half-opened lips and face contorted in a grimace that looked partly like effort and partly like… concentration? And it was then when his orgasm hit him.

It felt as if he shattered into pieces, got disassembled and spread and lost. When he sobered up enough to pick up the parts, he had impression that some of them went missing. That some parts of him went into her to stay there forever.

He was breathing heavily, waiting for his heart rate to normalize. Komachi wasn't inclined to grant him a moment of respite, though. "Got what you wanted?! Then get off me and get out!" She moved under him, trying to budge his weight.

Madara re-focused on her face. Flushed, angry, and… was there something else?

"Was it really that horrible for you?" He was looming over her, careful now to keep his weight on his elbows.

Silence answered him as Komachi turned her face to the side.

"Did I hurt you?" Something must have been wrong with his throat because it felt clenched.

"No," she deadpanned.

"Then why are you so furious?"

Komachi took a deep inhale. "I didn't struggle, did I? I made it easy for you. So now do something for me and leave."

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about this mission Madara just got. What is it supposed to be?" This was already the fourth stone Izuna kicked off the path. This one hit the wall of someone's house. Izuna couldn't care less. "And I'm sure he's been assigned with it only because the higher-ups got pissed about that action with the Fūma."

Waraku laughed. "You bet they did. I was standing close enough to see their faces when you guys returned. That was kind of funny, the whole troop prepared for the battle, everyone excited, or, at least in my case, shitting pants, and then instead of the Fūma, you guys appear! Shibu was furious! He looked like a fool in front of the entire clan!"

"And that's why I worry. That this messed up mission is some sort of payback."

"Don't worry. He'll manage. He always does," Waraku offered a consolation.

"I just hate that he is going alone. I want to know that someone is there to watch his back."

"Watch his back? Even if someone tagged alone it wouldn't be possible. You know how he is."

Izuna's shoulders slumped.

Waraku considered, wanting to relieve his friend's worry. "Would it be enough if 'something' was protecting back instead of 'someone'?"

"Maybe… It would be better than nothing."

"How 'bout an armour? We can get him a better armour."

"He would never wear it. He barely tolerates our standard armours. He says he doesn't need it. That no one is good enough to land a hit on him."

Waraku snorted. "At some point he will meet an opponent that will make him reconsider."

"Then he will probably wear it. But not now."

"Let's go to my father's workshop. Maybe we find something that will catch your eye."

"Really?" A small smile broke through the gloom on Izuna's face.

The workshop was cluttered. Half-finished kunai and shuriken at were lying in open chests, sorted by how advanced they were in the production process. Scraps of metal, chains and other things Izuna couldn't even name were filling other boxes. On the wall katanas, tantōs and other longer blades were hanging carefully arranged, separated from the chaos.

Izuna looked around. "I don't think we'll find anything useful in here …"

"How about this?" Waraku pointed at a large gunbai hung on the wall.

"A war fan? Who would even use it?"

"Who? A war lord to command his troops."

"Which Madara would never do. So much not his style."

"I meant it was its original purpose. The noble that commissioned it, wanted to have it carried around him to be more visible."

"What a moronic idea."

"Isn't it?" agreed Waraku. "I don't understand how those people are thinking. But no matter – Madara can use it differently – to add wind to his flame. It's a _fan_ , in the end…"

Izuna's eyes lightened up. "That would be great! We've just learned the combination jutsu! You should have seen the damage we inflicted on the Fūma! Their camp was annihilated! Things were simply dissolving in flame!"

"You see! Then he can have a little of it even when you are not around."

"Right, but how would it add to his protection?"

"That's the catch. If we convince him to take it, he will need to carry it on his back. On _his back_ , you get it? This gunbai is solid metal – it's better than any armour. And he won't complain."

Izuna jumped up. "Waraku, you're the best!"

Waraku grinned. "No problem. Then let's do it." He took gunbai off the hooks. "I'll add Uchiha symbols on it. Just in case my father wants us to give it back… With our tomoe engraved, there will be no way to sell it to the customer."

"Wait. We can't take it. You will get punished for that. You will get your bones broken from the beating."

"Eh.. Not the first, not the last time. I'll survive. Plus then mother will fawn over me. She will prepare mochi and let me have most of it… Maybe she'll even give me some sweets…" mused Waraku with a dreamy expression on his face.

"We can't do it, your father will get into trouble."

"Nah, he won't. That noble doesn't really need it. I bet he's already forgotten that he had even commissioned it. Plus, mother pesters father all the time that he made the fan too simple. That it should be more ornate to impress all those lords. So that we get more commissions from the court. Mother is concerned with the money, you know?"

Waraku lied the fan on the work table, and lowered a metal stamp to gunbai's surface. "What do you think? Here?" He squinted his eyes, considered the design and re-adjusted the stamp. "Alright, here will be fine. Izuna, hold the fan still."

For a good while nothing but monotone hammering was heard in the workshop. Waraku worked his way through the symbol on the left side and was searching for the perfect spot to place the other one.

"Waraku, I think it won't make sense for Madara to use it to fan the flames. He would need his hands for forming seals or holding weapons…" Waraku stopped his hammer mid-air. "But I was thinking… If I could imbue this gunbai with my Wind chakra… Maybe he could learn to release it when needed. Maybe the fan would serve as some form of storage."

Izuna pressed his hand to gunbai's surface and molded his chakra. He directed it into the metal and have it sink into it. His palm tingled as the energy was leaving him in quick bursts. Izuna glanced up. "I think it's working!"

"Great! Then let me just finish this last tomoe and…" Waraku held the stamp, swung the hammer. And the hammer flew back, hitting his face. Waraku jumped away, holding his cheek. "Shit! What the heck! It almost hit my eye." He rubbed at his cheekbone inspecting the damage. Finding nothing that would justify further fuss, he picked up the hammer from under the wall, where it landed. "Izuna, hold it better, would you? I think it slipped."

Waraku stroke again. The hammer wrenched out of his fingers and tumbled on the floor.

"Waraku, are you alright?"

"I cannot believe it! I think this shit just twisted my thumb!" Still holding fingers in his mouth Waraku squinted his eyes. "This is really weird. Izuna, channel your chakra into the fan again."

* * *

Madara was just putting his shoes on, when he saw Izuna and Waraku stumbling through the gate. They were presenting a pitiful picture. Waraku sported a huge bruise on his right cheek, while Izuna… Shiver ran down Madara's spine. Izuna was so white that it was borderline green and had to be almost hauled by his friend.

"Aniki! You're still here! We've managed in time! And here I thought we will need to chase after you."

"By how you look, you wouldn't be able to chase down even Waraku." Waraku shoot him a look, but it was just for convention's sake. All three of them knew that Waraku was so much below Madara's and Izuna's skill level that such remark was more of a joke than a sign of real contempt. "Where have you been and what have you done to yourself!"

Izuna beamed at him. "We've got you something!" Waraku, who was until now fumbling with straps wrapped around his torso, finally succeeded in whatever he was doing, and simultaneously with Izuna's exclamation, presented him… a thing. Madara stared.

He must have looked severely unimpressed as Izuna hurried with explanation. "It's a gunbai!"

Madara was rarely lost for words, but this was one of those times. For all the gods he couldn't imagine what would he need that thing for.

Izuna glanced up. "I know what you're thinking, but let us show you something!"

Waraku showed him all his teeth in a cheeky smile and swung the fan. Thankfully, he had enough sense to swing it in direction of the fence and not the house. Because otherwise Tatsu would have skinned all three of them alive. The ground was rendered smooth and devoid of any structure in radius of twenty meters. What was left from the railing was now dangling from sakura trees branches in neighbors' ornamental garden.

Madara arched his eyebrow. "Alright. Not bad."

"You like it? It's my wind chakra! I imbued the gunbai with it."

"Ah, so that's why you look like death."

Izuna shrugged. "Wait, it's not all. There is a funny side effect we discovered." Izuna sprinted to the middle of the yard, looked around considering his position, formed the seals for Fireball jutsu and directed the flames towards Waraku. Waraku responded only by holding the fan in front of him. The fireball didn't swipe around him, didn't part to engulf him from the sides. Instead, it jumped away as if was a physical ball bouncing off the wall. It became suddenly clear to Madara why did Izuna choose his position so carefully. Fireball hit the sand where his brother was standing a split of second earlier.

Madara activated his Sharingan. "Repeat it. I want to see how it works."

* * *

The mission started as an annoyance. Traveling with the nobles was quickly working its way up on the list of Madara's most hated pastimes.

Then it abruptly stopped being an annoyance. When he was given the mission, he was told that he would participate in a tournament representing the provincial governor. He thought that it would be settling some honour-dispute or having the governor show of in front of the daimyo. Instead, he was supposed to participate in a circus. Madara was flabbergasted. Apparently, they organized the entire tournament to pit shinobi from different clans against one another and bet on them. He was meant to be an entertainment.

The payment that he was to receive was not even bound to his performance, as the fights were designed to be to death and it was supposed to be incentive enough to guarantee shinobis' high performance.

It was the worse humiliation that he suffered in his entire life.

It took him a long time to talk himself out of idea of assassinating the entire ensemble of high-born spectators. Such act wouldn't be in the interest of the clan. Even if it was the clan who had put him in this position.

Instead, he waited until the lavish opening ceremony was held, and all participants gathered on the arena to present themselves. Then he attacked. With opponents in such close quarters, it didn't take him long to eliminate the first dozen. With his Sharingan and his supreme speed he just took them down as they were standing. After that, it transformed into a melee, every man against another. He couldn't honestly say he killed them all, as for sure some other shinobi managed to get a kill as well. But after ten minutes or so, he was the only one standing.

He was tempted to try out Izuna's gift. But in the end, he resisted the urge. It was strategically unwise to present such a weapon on full display. The element of surprise was only adding to its deadliness.

The fight relieved some of the tension and provided the outlet for his rage. But the meager satisfaction he got from ruining the show for the nobles couldn't wash away the foul taste from his mouth.

The thought that the entire tournament would have lasted another two weeks had it managed to take place, he pushed far away from his mind. Coming back to the village was not the reason he lashed out. Coming back to the village before this month's new moon was not the reason. It was not.

* * *

He came again. Took him almost two months but he was back. Not that Komachi really hoped that once would be enough. It was only realistic that it would take him longer to get bored. Nevertheless a smudge of disappointment lingered. Komachi steeled herself; now that the border was breached, it was clear what he was up to.

He sat down and stretched his legs. As if the bed belonged to him. "It was on a long mission." He moved his shoulders and Komachi could hear his joints popping. "Much too long to my liking. Nothing about it was to my liking."

It was funny that he was almost explaining his absence. Was he thinking she had missed him, or what?

"This entire mission should have never happened." He continued as he lied down next to her. "All pointless."

Komachi stiffened.

When he had left the previous time, she had cried. Out anger and out of helplessness. She had cried so much as she didn't remember crying. She had stuffed her mouth with a piece of cloth and screamed into it. She was thankful for the limited privacy of her room. For the fact that she could express her emotions, as this was only expression of emotions she could afford.

Because she knew better not to struggle.

He didn't hurt her, she knew how to deal with the act to avoid the pain. One of the many skills that came with marriage.

But she had to admit it wasn't only "non-painful". His intent and want somehow seeped a tiny bit into her, and at some point she found that the rhythm of his rocking body could maybe kindle something in her. After he was finished, she had a half of mind to say something about it, to have him continue, but of course she didn't. It was a great opportunity to throw him out and, naturally, she took it. He made his move and the ball was on her court. She could shove the deed in his face and relish in her moral upper ground.

But when she was crying that evening, in between of anger and helplessness, there was also a shade of something that could only be described as frustration. The physical one, caused by the strange hollow feeling down her stomach, but also a mental one. She had enough lucidity to recognize that he provoked behaviour that she was ashamed of. His arrogance brought forth arrogance from her side. And Komachi didn't want to be arrogant. Didn't want to be driven by pride and conceit. He was bringing forth all that she wanted to rid of.

He rolled over her, pinned her down and started with to trail kisses across her cheek. When he reached her lips, she didn't turn away. Time was struggle was over and it was never a good idea to begin with. His hands were working under her robes and he was maneuvering himself between her legs. He was quite heavy even if he was trying, as he clearly was, not to put his whole weight on her.

She rested her hands on his back, for the lack of better place to put them.

Hand was stroking across her breast and stomach and Komachi willed herself to stay calm.

"You really don't want to, do you?" It kept surprising her, this disappointment in his voice. "I lived my whole live not missing it, and now after last time, I cannot manage without it. Pathetic, isn't it?" She didn't answer. "Komachi, I cannot hold it anymore," he said and it sounded as if something was hurting him.

Was he really expecting a reply from her? A willing participation?

And then, he did something she was not expecting at all. He searched her hand, pulled it between their bodies. Then he took her palm and wrapped it around himself. "Then – like this." He closed his hand around hers and squeezed.

Komachi gasped in surprise. He nuzzled at her neck and moved their jointed hands along his length. "Can you do it like that?" It sounded like a plea.

Tentatively she slid her hand a bit downwards. The man over her let out a deep exhale. She stroked up feeling him stiffen even more in her grasp. She repeated the motion and he thrust into her palm. Since her other hand was against his lower back Komachi could feel which muscles tensed at the movement. Large muscles. Much larger than any in her own body. And with such a small touch she was making them move. She stroked again, harder. The man above her was moving in concert of her strokes, gasping for breath, his forehead propped against the pillow next to her head.

He freed one hand and grasped blindly at her breast. It should have hurt, from how abrupt it was, but it didn't. He kneaded it and Komachi's own breath sped up, though she wasn't quite sure was it from the effort of keeping the pace of the strokes or because of something else.

She turned her head towards his face. Stupid reflex, she couldn't see a thing anyhow. But he noticed it and turned as well. ' _It's not fair. Apart of this being not fair on so many other levels, on top of it I cannot see him in this one moment when he is more vulnerable than I am._ ' Before she could wonder at the thought, the man captured her lips.

It was different from before, there was no trace of restraint or hesitation in this kiss. No trace of thought or intent, just want. It was so violent that Komachi thought he would bite her. She opened her lips a bit to accommodate the impact.

"Don't stop." He let out between the kisses. He thrust harder, to point out what he meant. So she didn't stop. She could feel his tip dragging along her belly, the veins pulsing under her fingers. Her arm was hurting already and she could barely find time to breath. But no, she didn't want to stop.

She must have opened her lips wider as he managed to push his tongue into her mouth. Komachi jerked at the awkward feeling of it. But then the man broke the kiss, groaning pushed into her hand with force that moved her entire body up on the bed and stilled. Komachi felt warm, sticky liquid between her fingers. She slowly opened her grip and let go off him.

The same shade of frustration that haunted her after their previous encounter settled down in her stomach. Komachi sighted and busied her mind with thinking where should she wipe her hand to avoid questions in the morning.

The man rolled off her. Cold night air touched her bare skin heated by friction and effort and Komachi shuddered. Her robe was all tangled between her legs and she had to move her hips to release it. The man grabbed at another flap and pulled it to wrap it around her. She was lucid enough to appreciate the gesture so she smiled even though he probably couldn't see it.

He stalled mid-motion and palmed the fabric. "And now you want," he said.

Komachi jerked and tried wrenching the cloth from his hand. He laughed and handed it to her without resistance – the fabric was slimy-wet. It baffled her for a moment long enough for him to reach with his hand to the place between her legs completely unhindered. "You want it," he reiterated and it wasn't a question. "Let's try again, then."

"What? Why would I even want to?"

"You still feel it, don't you? This thirst that was not quenched." He nudged his nose into the crook of her neck.

Komachi bit her lip.

The man leaned towards her and grabbed her at the waist. "Do it on your own." He pulled her so she was straddling him. "Do it as you want it."

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think about this chapter!

at MysticNymph89 : Thx for your comments and answering your questions: Madara is a bit younger than Komachi (maybe a year or half a year younger). And no, I'm not planning to mix this story with the present.


	4. Chapter 4

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

"My hair is in the way." Komachi was lying on top of him. He was already inside her but they were still kissing. She seemed to like it better this way. Well, 'liked' was probably an overstatement, but at least now they were both enjoying it. Madara never anticipated that watching her draw pleasure from the act would delight him so.

Madara pushed the strand of her hair off his face and tucked it behind her ear. "No matter."

"It's irritating. It tickles."

"I like your hair."

"I don't. I preferred it when it was short." Komachi straightened up so that she was straddling him without any additional support. Just her full weight anchored on his crotch. The feeling was already overwhelming but when she lifted her hands, arched back and started furiously tugging at her hair in attempt to bind it Madara saw white. He was never so grateful for both: the length of her hair and her temper.

"When it was shorter, I felt more carefree."

"Yeah, you looked so." He confirmed absentmindly, whole his focus on the outline of her body. It was the most enticing view he had ever seen. Even in the darkness he would swear he could see the contour of her nipples.

Komachi froze, suddenly still and stiff. But before she could say anything, Madara grabbed her hips and set her into motion.

* * *

Next time Madara came to her room, she was sitting full awake on the futon.

"Not asleep? It's late." He was removing his outer robe and shoes, already anticipating the warmth of the bed.

"I've been waiting for you. Madara."

Blood froze in his veins. His mind went on a calculation frenzy – how did she know? Did he slip? Was he watched? Followed? If yes, then why only now, months into the affair? And, most importantly, was it a trap?

"How do you know?" He growled a bit more aggressively than he intended to.

Komachi laughed but it was not a cheerful laughter. "You misstepped." There was an unhidden satisfaction in her voice.

Madara got a hold of himself. There were no chakra signatures in the vicinity, and he reminded himself that he was prone of erring on paranoia. And megalomania, if he was to be honest – though this he was planning to change soon. But for now, no one would want to get him, he still didn't mean enough to be a target. This thought made him bitter and diverged his anger away from Komachi.

Still, it wouldn't do if she thought she could affect him like this. With deliberation he reached to another sandal to take it off. "Where did I misstep?" he asked sitting down and hoped that the nonchalance he put into his voice didn't sound too studied.

"You said I looked carefree with my hair short."

Cogs in Madara's brain kept spinning and coming empty.

Komachi continued. "It was a very short period of time that I could act cheerful. A day or two maybe. Then I was scolded by my mother-in-law exactly for that. She had a heavy hand so after it I kept myself in check. I don't blame her – you don't want to see the fresh widow of your son all sing-songy…" Komachi paused. "So you must have seen me on one of those days. But I have very good memory, you see… I could recall who was in the house at that time. With some deduction and elimination and a bit of luck… Add to it that I was able to estimate your age more or less… So now I know - you're Izuna's older brother."

* * *

The next days he was wary every waking and sleeping hour. He was expecting an attack, but none came.

Coming to think about it, there was nothing to be afraid of. The household of Waraku's uncle didn't care much about Komachi. As far as he knew they were keeping her only so they wouldn't need to acquire a bride for their younger son. The family wasn't influential and, after death of Fugi, rather poor so the bride-price was for them something to take into account.

And even as there was a certain degree of prestige that went along with Komachi – her being a daughter of a renown shinobi – her line was all but extinguished.

So her in-laws were not interested in avenging her honour, and maybe she wouldn't tell them anyway. In the end, she wasn't on particularly good terms with her mother-in-law.

On the bright side, he could quit the sneaking act around her. No more restricting himself to moonless nights, no more leaving in complete darkness. He would be able to really see her now. Her, not her glow through the Sharingan, but her – the way her eyes slanted, the way her mouth turned when she smiled. Maybe even the colour of her nipples…

All that mulling aside, Madara wanted to know where he stood. He wanted to approach her with all openness and now it was starting to be possible.

"Why didn't you tell on me yet?" he asked.

"I'm still hoping you will get bored with me."

Madara laughed. At the first moment he thought she really wore her heart on the sleeve. On the second thought – it couldn't be the case – she was far too cunning for it. "I won't get bored, I assure you. You can drop that hope."

"Even if I'm constantly unpleasant and unwelcoming?"

"Even more so. I want to show you that I'm worthy of your love."

"Are we talking love now?!"

"Well, I am… I want you to accept me. I will be coming as long as you do."

"And will you stop then?" He was somehow grateful for the playful tone in her voice. It didn't come easy to him to make such lofty confessions and having said it once he didn't want to dwell more on the topic. Plus, it was the first time that Komachi made a joke in his presence.

"The idea is that then you will want me to come…" he matched her tone.

"You have quite some plans… And some cheek…"

For first time since a long while Madara felt at ease. "So what is the real reason that you're not telling?"

Komachi didn't answer.

Madara felt a surge of accomplishment – he had gambled and he had been right. "So, there is another reason… You couldn't tell… It would be some sort of a loss for you if you did…" He was more thinking aloud than anything else. Scouting for her reactions. Bright as she was, she would fall for it sooner or later.

Komachi let out an aggravated exhale.

"Oh, I got it right? Revealing that I'm coming here would put you in a vulnerable position." He still didn't quite know why and how, but his bluff seemed to be working.

"Gods damn my luck!" Komachi finally lost her nerve. "That out of all men it was your attention that I attracted!"

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong. That's the point." Komachi wrapped arms around herself.

Madara lied down and stretched himself long on the futon. That will be a long shot, but if what he thought turns out true, he should go and celebrate. He would go and drink if he had with whom. He didn't so he will go to the shrine and make an offering. "If your family knew that I'm coming here, they would hand you over to me without a protest."

Komachi didn't answer, only turned her head away.

Shrine it is. He will make sure his offering is noteworthy. "Are they so much lacking the money?"

"Not the money. They are dying from anxiety that they'll lose another son. That yet another one will be used as cannon fodder. When you have no backing up among the higher-ups, you're sent on suicidal missions, you're put in most dangerous positions on the battlefield. That's how Fugi died. They are desperate to have someone stand up for them. Someone with rank high enough…"

This shrine offering will be his entire payment for the last mission. Not only the path to get Komachi became clearer, but he also received a proof that he is recognized within the clan.

"Don't worry. I won't reveal that I'm interested in you. And I'll still be careful so I'm not spotted when I come here. I won't put you into a corner. You have my word."

Komachi sniffed and nodded.

* * *

"I wish I had a friend."

"It's rather difficult with the life you lead." Tatsu looked up at him, a mild scorn in her black eyes.

Madara knew it all too well. Youngsters from other families saw his as a threat, spurned by their elders who frowned at an up-start. And up-start whose sheer power already now widely outdid their own. The knowledge didn't help too much though. "I wish I had a friend like Izuna has in Waraku. Like you had in my mother. Someone who would challenge me when I need to be challenged. To stand up to me and call me out when I'm wrong. And to stand by my side nevertheless."

Tatsu looked at him carefully. "You would need to open yourself up to someone first. And I'm not sure if you are even able to…"

Madara scowled, but what she said didn't surprise him. Tatsu never offered easy comforts.

"Careful what you wish for." Tatsu must have taken notice of his dejection as she provided the only kind of consolation she had in stock – the unpleasant truth. "When you have such a person and then you lose him… You don't want it, believe me."

Strain in Tatsu's voice was still audible, even after all those years. She managed to get over losing her children; losing her husband never earned more than a shrug from her, but losing Kiyo was the blow that almost broke her. It didn't; she held for the sake of him and his siblings but for years she seemed only half of herself. When together they were a harmonious whole. Without his mother Tatsu was just a forlorn traveler in the rain. She made it through until all her children were either grown up or dead. But it was only that: 'making through' with gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"And I don't wish it for you. I'm afraid what will become of you when it happens."

* * *

When he came Komachi didn't move from under her bedcovers. She didn't even say anything as she was buried under them up to the very top of her head. Madara wondered how was she even able to breath.

Having removed his cloak he realized that the room was indeed very cold. Not much warmer than the frosty exteriors.

When he slipped under the covers Komachi didn't turn towards him, staying in arduously warmed up space she managed to created. She must have been really cold. Madara reached for his cloak, spread it over them adding a layer to Komachi's blankets and embraced her from behind.

He draped himself around her trying to envelop as much of her as possible. She answered by snuggling closer to him. He put his arm around her, grabbed both of her palms and held them in his own. Maneuvered her feet so that they were directly touching his calves. Gritted his teeth cause her feet felt exactly like icicles.

Komachi relaxed and shifted even closer to him.

Madara was acutely aware of the shape of her body. The swell of her breast under his arm, her behind nestled against his groin were putting him into a mood, but he did his best to chase those thoughts away. For once he could do something she wanted him to. Finally, there was something he could provide, even if it was something as trivial as body warmth. But if he provides it, she, for the first time, will be happy that he came around. He won't ruin it.

He must think about something else. Like training with Izuna for example.

But it thinking about sparring brought awareness of body movements to his mind. Like moving his arms or straining his back. Or moving his hips. Stop. Wrong association. Come back. He had to find some other thing to think about. To divert his attention away from her bottom touching his groin. Something tedious and unpleasant enough to forget… With certain relief Madara remembered that Tatsu had been nagging him to clean the aviary and he grabbed at this thought like at a life board. He was avoiding the cleaning for a week already until yesterday Tatsu had got him and she had been really pissed. It stung from kilometres, she had said. And if he wanted to keep his birds, he should finally take responsibility because she was sick and tired of cleaning their mess. Warding off the visions of scrubbing the cages from birds' shit, Madara drifted into sleep.

* * *

"What do you want?"

"I want power."

Komachi snorted. "And here I thought you'll say 'I want you'."

"I have you."

In the darkness he couldn't make out her features but he was sure she glared at him.

"And what do you need this power for?"

Madara halted. He never really thought about it. Power was something he strove for as long as he remembered. "To be stronger than anyone else. To be able to defeat anyone."

"Weak excuse for a reason. That's what being powerful means by definition - you're just rephrasing."

Madara hesitated. What he really thought he rarely admitted even to himself. He didn't even allow his thoughts to wander in that direction, let alone to speak about it. Not that he had many people to talk to about it. Izuna would only be distressed knowing his old sentiments were still lingering. Other clan members were entirely out of question. What he thought was treason – even if not a physical one, then of the Uchiha ideals.

"I want to be stronger than a specific someone," he said in the end. It felt so good when it rolled of his tongue. Trust grounded or not, it felt so good to open up in front of someone.

"Who is he?"

"A man from Senju clan. And he's stronger than me."

"Well…" Komachi weighted her words. "It's quite probable that there are some people stronger than you out there…"

"He's my age. I've met him on the battlefield on many occasions and each time he was stronger. I struggle and grow and so does he. But it's not his ninjutsu that makes him so dangerous…"

"What is it then?"

"He has a way with people, he can make them follow him. He holds… peculiar beliefs… I'm concerned that he will be able to talk other clans into joining up with the Senju."

"They would never do it. Clans have been separated for centuries, nobody will manage to unite them."

"He can find a way… What he does to people… It's as if he would be stealing their hearts…"

Komachi looked at him with full concentration. "Did he steal yours by chance?"

Madara jerked his head at the intent in her voice. Sharp as ever, he had an inkling that he can end up regretting telling her about Hashirama. He decided to turn in into a joke. "Jealous?" he asked.

"Haha. No. They say jealousy is the worst of woman's vices. Jealousy is what drives your husband away, they say. At least in this aspect I'm a perfect woman. I'll never be jealous about you." Komachi unfolded her arms.

Madara was glad that he managed to divert her, but her remark still stung.

"So… What is so fascinating about him?"

Shit, he didn't manage to distract her in the end…

"Come on, I'm curious now!"

Madara sighted. "He has this idea… That people can live peacefully, clan next to one another, if they would understand each others' feelings, speak openly with one another. That showing your guts to another would solve the conflicts…."

Komachi was studying his words, her eyes narrow in sign of thinking. "Bullshit," she announced finally. "That will never work. As long as people have clashing interests and desires, the conflicts will persist. Talking about it doesn't change a thing."

"But if clans formed larger political entities the wars would be stopped."

"Maybe the open fighting would stop. Only to be replaced by intrigues, backstabbing and coup d'etats."

"Not if the clans cease to exist."

"If clans cease to exist it will be simply one man against another. We will be at one another throats like animals. We are like animals – striving only for our own interest and survival. Only dropping one's desires would help…. Only that would make us into humans…" Komachi paused, breathed in deeper, seemingly trying to get of the high she worked herself onto. "If you're so fascinated by his ideas, " she picked up finally, "why do you want to beat him?"

As much as he tried, Madara couldn't find an answer.

Komachi considered him for a while. "You don't want to beat him to defeat him!" she exclaimed with as sudden realization. "To destroy him and his ideals. You want to beat him to prove you're better than him!" she finished with a triumphant note in her voice.

Madara was staring at the quilt covering his legs. He didn't know himself what was driving him, he kept pushing all his feelings concerning Hashirama furthest away. Hearing it from her mouth though, summarized and analysed like that… Made him feel transparent, and pitiful and pathetic. Komachi must have seen the slump of his shoulders because she crawled over and straddled his lap. "I don't get it." He could hear a smile in her voice. Apparently seeing him upset was improving her mood. "I don't get it at all. It must be some stupid boys' thing." She said and mussed his hair.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and please let me know your thoughts!

at MysticNymph89: sure I answer! (I would have answered directly, but your PM option is switched off.) My intention is to follow the canon storyline and have it as canon-complaint as possible, but this fic will finish before Konoha foundation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 5**

* * *

Madara was sitting in their weaponry room, sorting out the equipment for the campaign that was supposed to start in three days. The clan was hired by the daimyo of the Land of Grass to wage the war against the Land of Rain. Which in itself was an assignment straightforward enough. But the rumour had it that Rain Daimyo managed to negotiate a huge loan from the merchants of his only, but very wealthy, city and hired a defence force. The intel wasn't specific about which clan had been contracted, but experience was pointing to the Senju.

Madara didn't know how to feel about it… It made him uneasy.

Yet another rumour had it that the ruler of Waterfall Country, the other neighbour of the Grass, was mobilizing his troops. He didn't need to hire mercenaries, as that land was home to only one, but very powerful clan – the Takigawa Clan. No war was declared yet, but it was clear that Waterfall was planning to strike from the other flank. What wasn't clear was whether it was just an opportunistic attack, and therefore won't be synchronized with the action on Rain border. Or just the opposite.

The Uchiha war council was scheduled for this evening.

Izuna busted into the room. He was visibly aggravated. "Aniki!" Izuna was trying to catch his breath. "We're in trouble!"

"What is it?" Madara was packing shuriken into the poach. He concentrated on counting them without sparing his brother a second glance - Izuna tend to be overdramatic at times.

"About the campaign. The elders want to kill two birds with one stone and use it to get rid of you!"

"How do you know that?" snapped Madara out. With that last sentence, Izuna just got his full attention.

"Waraku overheard."

"How? They didn't notice him?"

"He's actually pretty good at quenching his chakra."

"That's because he has so little of it," deadpanned Madara rubbing his forehead.

Izuna glared and Madara had to smile. Antagonizing his younger brother was so entertaining that he couldn't help himself even if other, more serious things should be on his mind. "Alright, what did he hear exactly? And who is involved?"

"They took notice of you. Especially Shibu it seems."

"Finally." With the leader position currently vacant - after the previous clan head succumbed to poisoned wound inflicted on him in a fight with a coalition of wild, southern clans - Shibu was closest to claiming the title. He was, _de facto_ the leader already.

"Finally? You've managed to piss them off with your standoffish attitude!"

"I just took better decisions. On multiple occasions. Which clearly indicates that I am more fit to lead the troops than they are."

"They will use the next clash to get rid of you. They are planning to get all the glory. Look like leaders again."

"So, what's their plan?" asked Madara trying to appease Izuna a bit.

"To go to the Rain with part of the troops. Without you, so that you don't distinguish yourself there. And to send you as the leader of the other half to face the army on the Waterfall border."

That was bad. That could be disastrous. Madara wasn't taking it too seriously until now, but this piece of information made him pause and reconsider. "Takigawa are stationary, they haven't engaged us yet. We should deal with them consecutively," he said slowly. "Dividing troops serves no purpose. If we end up facing the Senju in the Rain we will be beaten if we don't show up in full strength."

"They've taken this possibility into account as well. If things look bleak, they intend to send for you. But they will make sure they send so late that you won't be able to come in time."

"They risk a failure. Or at least heavy casualties."

"They don't care. They will take anyhow those shinobi who sympathize with you and use them as cannon fodder."

"And if they manage despite it, Shibu will be acclaimed a hero. On the other hand, if their host is decimated, they will accuse me… Neat." Madara clicked his tongue. He could appreciate a good plan when he saw one.

"We need to prevent it! They see you as a threat and want to dispose of you!"

Madara didn't answer for a while. He picked up polishing his katana. Looking at that bright, shining metal was helping him to concentrate. "I will not bother coming at all," he said finally.

"That's even worse! That's plain insubordination in times of war! This will get you executed."

"Not if I will be saving the village in the same time.."

".. how?"

"Because there will be another clan attacking, pointing directly to our unprotected compound and my troops will intercept them. Just in time to save the village. Then Shibu can say whatever he wants about me not showing up. I will be the hero and they won't be able to do a thing."

"Just, how do you know another clan will be attacking? Did you get some intel? Then we should tell and take measures to prevent it, and.."

"Izuna, shut up, would you? The attackers will be the Hyūga and they don't know about it themselves yet."

"Then, how…?" Izuna shook his head in disbelief.

"I will give them the intel, saying our compound is emptied of fighting men and ready for plunder. And I will make sure they get here exactly in time for my troops to intercept them on our way back from the Waterfall."

* * *

"Look what I've brought to you." Madara dug in his pouch and produced a wrapped-up, oblong object.

"What is it?"

"A dagger. For you."

Komachi weighted it her hand. "Why would I need it?"

"You said you are weak. And that it bothers you. It's much too late to train you as a shinobi, but learning some self-defence is still possible."

Komachi ran her finger along the blade. "It's real. Sharp."

"It is. I thought long about which weapon would be best for you. I think it will do. Small enough to hide in a robe and long enough to kill without much effort. With pointy tip, like a kunai. But narrower because it doesn't need to be balance for throwing. It should make it easier to drive it in."

 _'_ _All pragmatic, as always,'_ thought Komachi. _'And as always failing to recognize what I want. Or rather never bothering to even think about it.'_

"I don't wish to kill. In general, as well as in particular. Don't you know it?" she challenged.

"Never say never. You simply haven't been in dire situation yet. Thinking changes then." Madara sat down and took the dagger from her hands. He sheathed the blade and proceeded to firmly bind it together with the sheath with leather straps. "Priorities change when you're faced with mortal danger. Then you're forced to cross your boundaries. Even those moral ones."

"I will never. I'll hold against it."

"You have only for contempt me, I can see it. You see that it's a weakness, that it's indulgence. You have no idea about real life." Madara shook his head. "You're kept safe because around you people kill other people. Because I kill people! So, don't act so morally superior. That you've never dirtied your own hands, doesn't mean anything!"

Komachi bit her lip. Could very well be that he was right. "I wish there was a way. For this all to stop. Just to stop. We all dream about happiness, don't we…? Why can we all just fall asleep and dream on?!"

"It's not that easy, Komachi… What would you want? A genjutsu where everyone is happy? There is no genjutsu in this world powerful enough for that..." Madara knitted his brows. He handed her the sheathed dagger back and stroked her palm.

Komachi knew that it was supposed to be a gesture of appeasement. She sighted. "Will we spar?"

"No. You should never use it against an armed opponent. You'll stand no chance and resistance usually only ignites aggression."

"But we'll practice somehow," assumed Komachi.

"We will practice. But not the sparring moves. Only stealth killing." Madara stood up. "If there is a chance, always strike from the back." He took off his shirt and turned around. "Look here." He bent his arm to point somewhere near his spine. "Here is a good way to reach the heart. Try it."

Komachi shook her head. "I cannot." The idea of stabbing a human heart… Piercing it and making it stop… What did a person feel when stabbed in the heart?! Pain? Fear? What did it feel like? Was it like suffocating? "I cannot!"

"You can. It's a simple movement. Just practice it and don't think about consequences."

"I have to think about consequences!"

"The weapon is sheathed. Worse case you will give me a bruise. I will most probably survive that," he cajoled. He pushed the knife into her hand. "Just try."

Komachi kept silent. "That's not what I meant," she said finally.

"Go on. It's training, there is nothing wrong in it."

Komachi pursed her lips and put the dagger to his back. When he set his mind on something there was no way to change it – she knew it already. "Here?"

Madara nodded. "Now take a swing and strike."

She did.

"Now again, harder," he encouraged. She struck once more. "Good. But put some more force into it."

It lasted until she could see a big bruise next to his spine. Komachi wondered if it hurt, but Madara seemed unperturbed.

"Now, if your target is sitting, and you happen to be behind, strike the neck." He took her hand and placed it on his pulse. "Feel it? It's a big artery. Cut it and there is no rescue. You can slash there, and that's what you do with a katana, in a proper fight. But you will be in close quarters and a swing would only gather the attention of your target. So simply stab. Put your whole strength behind it. This blade will go through."

Komachi was listening him wide-eyed, her fingers feeling the steady, slow beat of his pulse. He wasn't affected in the slightest with what he was saying.

"Get a piece of meat from the kitchen and practice stabbing," added Madara looking at her carefully. For sure he could see the revolt on her face. "Flesh offers resistance. It takes some time to get used to it."

It made her realized with all the tangibility in what lack of regard did he hold human life. On certain level she always knew it – the Uchiha were shinobi in the end. But men rarely discussed the details of their bloody trade with women. And she knew that many had some misgivings about it, even if they've never admitted it. Her brother, when he still had lived, would have woken up screaming at night. There were many conversations he had with their father about the toll the killing was taking on him, that Komachi had inadvertently overheard.

Apparently no second thoughts ever plagued Madara. Nothing of that kind was ever afflicting him. Even if he was thinking about peace, the singular acts of taking life meant nothing to him. Those were means to an end. That end or another; greater goal or just a small immediate one. But only means to an end. As if he never saw people behind the bodies that needed to be removed from his path. Shiver ran down Komachi's spine.

"If by any chance, at any point of time, you get captured – please promise me that you won't do anything rash. Like attacking the kidnappers. Keep low, comply; no one will harm a woman carrying a Bloodline Limit. And I will come for you."

"Oh, I'm certain you will," she answered. She hoped it sounded neutral enough. That her face didn't betray what was she really thinking. That maybe, just maybe, it would be a welcomed opportunity if she was spirited away.

"So, don't risk anything unless you're absolutely sure you have an advantage. Only when you're alone with one attacker in a closed room. I'll show you how to strike from the front."

Madara lied down and pointed to a place on his chest. "Here. Stab here, pointing the blade upwards, towards the head. But never, ever do it unless the man is deep asleep. Promise me that."

Komachi nodded. Easy promise - she would never do such a thing. Be it a kidnapper, a rapist, a worst murderer, she would never kill.

"When you killed, leave the room openly, don't hide, never run. When someone asks you where you're going, answer that you're bringing something to drink to the man you've been with. If they find you away from the camp, answer that you are going to relieve yourself. Never hurry, and never ever run."

* * *

Madara entered the aviary. Choice of the bird will be crucial. It should look like standard Uchiha message hawk, nothing extraordinary about it. Madara wished it could have been an older or sick bird, but unfortunately it won't be the case.

It was hard to make a choice. In the end he stopped at the cage were younger hawks, not completely trained yet ones, were kept.

 _'_ _I shouldn't be partial. I shouldn't decide on life and death based on which one I like better. Chances should be equal for all.'_ Madara grasped at the first bird on the perch, deliberately not taking a look which one it was. He put a blind cap on its head and bound the message to its left leg.

He went to the other end of the aviary where in an already prepared transportable cage a huge eagle was perched. Ruffled, angry and hostile.

Madara picked up the cage and went to his quarters. Once the plan is set into the motion there will be no return. Madara prayed that the timing he calculated turns out to be correct. The troops were setting off at dawn. He should be fit for the fight but first he needed to face another noteworthy opponent. He glimpsed at the eagle. Its golden eye promised nothing but suffering. Madara was not looking forward to this duel.

When behind the walls of his garden, Madara set the cage on the porch in front of his room and focused his attention on the smaller bird, perched calmly on his forearm. He gently removed the cap from hawk's head, stroke the feathers on its neck. The bird wasn't yet accustomed to human touch, so it merely tolerated the petting. Madara knew he was doing it anyway more to soothe himself than the bird. Orange eye of the hawk caught the red of the Sharingan and bird's head boobed to the side.

Madara gently took its head and with a swift twist of wrist broke its neck. Then he lied the bird down in the open space in the garden and stepped into his room. He undid his outer robe and only in trousers and shirt lied down on his futon. The cage with the eagle was within his arm-reach. The opening was facing towards the room interior. Madara hoped it would buy him a few additional moments.

He took a deep, meditative inhale, opened the cage and looked the eagle straight into the eyes.

The world spun. Raw, animalistic fear struck Madara like a hammer. ' _It's the bird's_ ,' recognized Madara. ' _It's panicked._ ' But it was seeping through into him. It has been a long time since he felt such fear.

Right after the fear came the resistance. The bird was fighting back, pushing him out. But there was no 'out'. No 'out' until Madara released the technique. So, the eagle was pushing him to the walls of its mind, squeezing and crushing him. Madara wished he could scream, but only a bird screech came out and it didn't bring any relief.

He loosened the control a bit down. The eagle tore out of cage and in panic flapped around the room until it finally realized that the brighter rectangle meant an 'out'. Under other circumstances Madara would have found it amusing how he could follow the thought processes, or whatever they were, of the eagle.

On the porch Madara concentrated once again. He needed the eagle to pick up the dead messenger bird. He turned eagle's head and looked with its eyes. It recognized the carcass but was far too aggravated to feed.

' _Even better, no risk that he will want to eat it right away._ ' Madara heard his own thoughts through the rumble of dread and aggression of the bird's mind.

He stretched eagle's wings and flew to the dead hawk. Some of the bird's instincts kicked in and it closed the talons around the carcass.

Madara let it fly without interruption. By a stroke of luck, the eagle chose more less correct direction. _'Let it calm down a little,'_ he thought. And Madara himself needed to recover his strength as well. The fight was only starting.

He had tried mind-transfer on the eagle already a couple of times before, but always with the bird confined. Now he had to fly. And to fly in a very specific direction.

The bird was turning north, where the mountains of the Land of Frost were looming on the horizon. Wrong way. Madara concentrated his chakra. And tore the control over their shared body away from the bird's mind.

He thought he was prepared for it, but he wasn't. He knew very well the pain of having something in his body that shouldn't be there – he was wounded enough times to be familiar with this disturbing sensation. Now he, himself, was this thing that shouldn't be there. He never imagined that it would be tenfold more horrible. He didn't belong here, he was an alien intrusion, a foreign entity assaulted from all the sides.

Madara always dreamt of flying. Like most of people, he supposed. Now he wanted to retract this dream. It was the worst effort he encountered in his life. Still, he needed to exert control over eagle's movements so they don't fall amidst their struggle.

The flight was nothing like majestic soaring of birds of prey. It must have looked like a morbid dance of mortally wounded animal. For Madara it was pure suffering. He wondered if for the bird as well, but at this point he wished all pain of the world for the damn animal.

Nevertheless, he was flying. And flying east.

.

Finally, he reached his destination. Even through the tree branches he could see a small squad of shinobi dashing through the forest. He landed several hundred meters further, on a clearing lying on the trajectory of the Hyūga's progress. He lowered his head and tore into the dead hawk. Revolting taste of raw, already congealed blood assaulted his senses almost making him to lose control over the bird. But he didn't lose it. It was exactly now that he had to keep the eagle in iron grasp – it long noticed approaching humans and wanted to flee. But Madara kept him down.

The moment he judged the enemy was close enough Madara slackened his hold and let the bird's instincts take over. With a shrill cry eagle flew up leaving the mangled corpse of the hawk behind.

They were flying. In its panic eagle was heading north again, away from the Uchiha territories.

It would have been better to release the jutsu and save his energy for the upcoming battle. But the fact that to the end the eagle did not bend to him was irking Madara on a very personal level. Rational part of him was telling him to let the bird go and re-capture it later. But another part wanted to show the damn bird who is in charge.

So, he changed the direction and kept on pushing forwards, back towards the Uchiha compound. Every flap of the wings was like tearing through molten lead instead of air.

With last effort Madara busted through the trap-door of the aviary and released the mind-transfer.

The moment his consciousness returned to his body was even worse than everything before it. He was wet from sweat, all his clothing soaked. Futon under him probably good only for disposal. With last shred of will power, he managed to roll on the side before he retched.

* * *

"So, you're a hero now."

Madara shrugged.

"Don't pretend you don't care." Komachi laughed. "I know you do."

"I do."

"So," said Komachi conversationally, propping herself on the elbow, "how much of it have you planned in advance?"

Madara grinned at her. Each time she could see through him it was filling him with pride. "Nothing you can prove."

"Can't I? You've instructed me very precisely on how to behave during a kidnapping. Two nights before a completely unexpected skirmish of the Hyūga. That almost managed to reach our gates. Only to be stopped, heroically I must add, by your squad. I mean, what are the odds..?"

Madara lied down and pulled her to his side. This was such a good evening and even Komachi didn't sound confrontational. Rather amused.

Heavy drinking ensued after the return of the main Uchiha force. Even if the leaders were furious, they kept their facades. They couldn't prosecute him now when the crowd was cheering for him. Well, when a part of the crowd was cheering for him. Because a large number of his clan-members were not. Madara stayed sober and took a good notice. By his estimates maybe one fourth was genuinely supporting him. Another quarter was scared – mostly those who witnessed how he dealt with Takigawa Clan. An army-killing wall of fire to fry the enemies into crisp – it sure did impress some. This new jutsu, that he had developed some months ago and kept hidden until now, was instrumental to the plan. It allowed him to resolve the battle with Takigawa in the matter of minutes, save his men's strength and make it in time to intercept the Hyūga's attack.

But intimidating his fellow clans-members came as a welcomed bonus. Definitely, today was a good evening. "But you will never speak a word about it," he smiled and kissed Komachi's cheek. "Otherwise you would need to reveal that I am coming here regularly. And as the things stand right now, your in-laws would hand you over to me even without the bride-price."

"Very true. I will never reveal it. But why don't you?"

"I'm still waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to want me."

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading, and please let me know your thoughts! Sorry it took so long for me to update, but this whole political intrigue was hard to figure out.

The phrase: "army-killing wall of fire to fry the enemies into crisp" was coined by Marquise de Nile to describe Madara's Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation (Katon: Gōka Mekkyaku). Used with permission :) bragging rights belong to: Marquise de Nile


	6. Chapter 6

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

Madara concentrated on the muscles in his legs. What was usually his second nature – walking silently - was a nearly impossible effort right now. His muscles were screaming, begging him to put his foot down sooner. Or not to lift it at all. The result was agonizingly slow progress. If he had been so clumsy during his first visits, he would have given up.

Opening the screen required raising his arm, twisting the shoulder joint and closing his fingers on the doorframe. Madara marvelled at the newly found awareness of fine body movements that his injuries were granting him.

When he reached Komachi's futon he was exhausted. He slumped down trying not to inflict additional pain to himself. Judging by what kind of torture a simple act of getting here was, it was a crackpot idea to come here at all. But it was a long time since he visited her, the last mission took weeks, and afterwards… Well, afterwards he got caught up in his frenzy.

Today, the inability to lift his arm to block Izuna's blow convinced him that it would do him good to take a break. So, he ended up coming here. But now it seemed that he was only able to lie flat like a corpse.

"What's wrong with you?" Komachi realized something was off.

Well, it was plain as a day, he fucked up. He could see it now, pity that only in the retrospect. "I overtrained."

"So much that you cannot move properly?"

He really didn't expect that his muscles would be the first to give in. The calculation was that his chakra would get depleted first and give his body a rest. He was quite happy that his chakra reserves were large enough, but there seemed to always be a limit somewhere. "Yes." Nevertheless, he didn't need her snarky remarks now. He needed some comfort, and it looked like he would need to rely on her good mood to even dream about it.

"Why? What's the point of driving yourself that far?"

Explaining a failure of judgment to Komachi wasn't his favourite occupation after a hard day. Madara sighted at the prospect and immediately had to wince. The muscles between his ribs protested at taking a too deep of an inhale. He took a more measured breath before starting to explain. "That's the way to increase your chakra capacities. You push your body to and past its limits and then the reserves are supposed to expand."

"Don't they expand during a normal training? I mean, such one that you can move afterwards?"

"They do. But that's a shortcut." Madara tried rolling on his side to face her and failed. It must have been epic failure, as it made Komachi snort.

"What did you do to yourself to get into this condition?! What is exactly that 'breaching your limit'?"

"It's when you either puke or collapse. Or both."

"Oh great…" He couldn't see it, but he was sure that Komachi just rolled her eyes. "So, what's the very important reason behind this performance?"

He really didn't need her snide. "That man – that man I told you about - I fought him. He nearly… he nearly killed me. He was stronger and he was after me."

"But you've managed."

"I only managed to escape. He was stronger. _I_ need to get stronger."

Komachi kept silent.

In order to continue, Madara needed to fight for more control over his vocal cords. "He's awoken some strange kekkei genkai…"

"Kekkei genkai?!" she exclaimed. Finally, she got the gist of seriousness of the situation.

"Yes." Talking about it was hard, it stung on so many levels. "He can now grow things. Trees."

"That's ridiculous. The most ridiculous jutsu I have heard about in my entire life."

"Not ridiculous. Deadly. He forms wood to his will, makes it expand and it expands fast, believe me. This wood is hard enough to block most bladed weapons and extinguish the momentum of the others. It can adjust its shape. It can bind you. It can…" The pictures of his clansmen dangling like puppets from living, moving trees… Ripped limb from limb by the branches twisting like tentacles of some monsters… Invulnerable, unkillable creatures… "Stop." Komachi placed her hand on his chest.

Madara was taking rapid breaths. He wanted to double over to quench the nauseating feeling in his stomach but he couldn't because of the pain.

"Stop driving yourself crazy." The entire composure in Komachi's voice was meant for his sake, he knew it. "If he grows trees, you are the perfect counter for him. You will just burn his trees down. To the very ground."

Madara held to her words. There was trust and conviction in them and hearing it made the whole ordeal of coming here no more pointless. Rationality, until now blurred by horrors of the battle and his inferiority complex, started to kick in. On the very basic level, she was right. Fire should burn Wood. He envisioned the inferno of sprouting trunks and branches catching fire as they grow. Still, it didn't make him as happy as it should.

"Mokuton and Katon… Even if I grow strong enough to match him… If we then meet… When we meet and I succeed – the field will be as it was before – empty. Or even less – it will be scorched to the bare ground. If he succeeds though – it will be full of trees. While he creates, I can only destroy…."

"Stop sulking. Go to sleep." Komachi lied down next to him and pulled a cover over them both.

"I cannot. Everything hurts."

Komachi shook her head. "I thought you have more reason than that. If you had to go on a mission in this condition, you would be killed."

"Won't you be happy?" Madara was in foul mood already and these words sprung into his lips on their own.

"Don't ever say that. I will never be happy because somebody's death!" He must have touched a nerve as Komachi sprung up sitting again. "Not even that of an enemy! Which you're not. I may not return your feelings and I certainly disagree with your plans towards me, but I don't wish you harm! It is against every fibre of my being!"

"If I was killed you would be freed from my presence." How many people would mourn him? She surely wouldn't. He tried so hard and still… Maybe it will be for the better... If he looked at their relationship it was only making him bitter.

"It's not that I don't want you specifically –" Komachi must have sensed his distress as she smoothed her tone. Smoothed it so much, that it only made him suspicious. " - even though your intensity scares me and you're a very bad partner to have or to spurn. I just don't want anyone. I want to be on my own. I don't want to be owned…" It was probably the first time she went through effort of explaining it to him. He always suspected but it hurt nevertheless.

"Then what's your plan?"

"To wait you out. Until you fall out of love with me. That will be the kindest way for us both…"

"I won't."

"You will. It lasts only a certain amount of time."

"Then why are you telling me your plan? I am warned against it now."

"Because the point is that when it happens you won't be able to help it, even if you know it. We don't choose whom we love, and whom we don't. Sad, isn't it?" She snuggled to him. "Believe, I am sad about it as well…"

.

"I cannot sleep." Komachi rolled to face him. The tone of her voice indicated that she was fully aware he was also awake.

"Me neither." He wanted to shrug but remembered that he shouldn't make any unnecessary movements.

"Why?"

"Because everything hurts. And I'm upset about us."

"I'm also upset, yet here we are."

"We only manage to put ourselves in worse mood when we're together, don't we?"

"It seems so."

Komachi propped her forehead against his chest. "I'm sorry. I should have enough integrity to step over these squabbles. I am as guilty of accelerating it as you are."

Madara huffed. What was she expecting, an apology?

But before he could get angrier, Komachi shifted down, crawling more under the blankets. "I have eyes, I see that you're unwell. Mentally probably even worse than physically. I shouldn't add to it, that's really a vile thing to do. I don't want to be such an awful person. Just stay still and let me make it up."

"What you're doing?" Madara tried lifting on his elbows. Sharp pain reminded him that he that it was a bad idea.

* * *

"I'm slowly getting used to it." Waraku palmed the stump of his right arm. "It still hurts at times and walking is funny..."

"Why?" interrupted Izuna.

"My balance is completely off. I'm lighter on one side." Waraku laughed. "So, I tend to fall to the other. But I'll get over it. With the eye I've almost managed already. I think my brain adjusted and I don't see the world split in half as I did in the beginning."

Izuna looked in awe. How could Waraku muster so much positivity in his condition? "You don't have to put up such a brave front. At least not in front of me."

"That's not a front. It's really not that bad. In the end I survived and that counts. And the pain is almost gone, so really… I'm good. You know, it might even be for the best…"

"How?!"

"I was never a very good ninja. I don't think I would have improved much with age either." Waraku rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "So, in reality I got lucky with those injuries. I survived and since I'm useless now I won't be sent into the battle anymore."

That was a miracle that Waraku had survived. Izuna carried him out of the battlefield on his own back disregarding first clear orders from Madara and then his more and more frantic pleas. He carried Waraku until he couldn't anymore. Then he dragged him. It was at that point that Madara gave in and carried the younger boy out of the danger zone on his own back. Later, Izuna had to burn the stump of Waraku's arm to stop the bleeding… Good that he was unconscious through the most of it.

"I guess…" said Izuna finally. "If you see it like that…"

"I won't have to be ninja anymore. I never liked it."

"What?!" That was something that didn't fit into Izuna's world. Obviously, he knew Waraku was no prodigy and never found much joy in trainings, but to state a dislike so clearly…Izuna never consider questioning the role he had to fulfil, he never thought he was allowed to have an opinion on it. In some ways his friend had more courage that he could ever muster. The whole world of possibilities bloomed in Izuna's mind, so beautiful and colourful that it took a moment until he asked: "Then what else would you like to do?"

"I'd like to travel. To see the world. And then," Waraku sent him a mischievous smile. "I would find some nice girl, far, far away from here, and marry her. Hope that my children won't inherit Sharingan from me so I won't have to raise them as ninjas. Hope that my kids won't have to kill anyone." Waraku fall somber, but it lasted only a second or two because he shook his head and continued with a grin. "Do you know that in other regions girls have different hair colours? Such yellowish, they say… And, I heard that on the coast some even have red hair!"

"Red?! Red like blood?"

"No… More like the colour of a fox. And they have freckles!"

"What are freckles?"

"Such spots on the nose and cheeks" explained Waraku with dreamy expression on his face.

"And is this supposed to be pretty?"

"Not particularly… I only wonder do they have them also in other places. More interesting places… Hey, Izuna, don't look so scandalized! Don't tell me you never thought about other parts of a girl?!"

Of course, Izuna did think about other parts of girls. From time to time. Good that Waraku in his excitement so completely misinterpreted his face expression and took it for prudishness. Because what Izuna was really thinking was that the only way Uchiha clan would ever let Waraku go would be blind and castrated.

* * *

"I will never have children. You would do better finding a different woman."

"How can you even know this?"

"Madara, you do realize that I should be pregnant with your second child by now?"

Madara furrowed his brows.

"I can count," continued Komachi. "I know when you come and when I should conceive. And with Fugi I also never did, so that's really me…"

"I don't believe you."

"What's there not to believe! You can see that I'm not pregnant!"

Madara narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you were, and you got rid of it. Maybe you did it many times."

"What… how can you…?"

"And now you're constructing this entire argument to discourage me."

"How can you even say something like that…?" Komachi voice shook.

"Wouldn't it only be logical – you never wanted me so it's obvious you would get rid of my child."

"How dare you! How dare you say such things! You say you love me, yet you accuse me of the worst atrocities! Another day you said I would be happy if you'd be dead…" Tears rolled down Komachi's cheeks. "You claim you love me yet you think I'm a monster. Do you honestly think like that? Then why are you even coming here?!" She shook her head. "You know, sometimes it feels like there is some black shadow speaking through you, some entity that whisper those vile things into your head… Sometimes, I even think I see it, standing right next to you!"

Madara glimpsed sideways but there was nothing there. "This subject is closed. Fertile or infertile, I'm not giving up on you. You can say whatever you want."

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think about this chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 7**

* * *

It was actually an offense that it was Kunihiko who came. Her father-in-law might have been unimportant, but he was still an elder of the clan. Not many people managed to become an elder – simply because they died too soon. So even though he was neither influential, nor particularly renown as a ninja, he was still a member of clan council. And as such his funeral required the presence of head of other families.

Yet Ichiro send his son instead.

But Komachi didn't intend to let the offense overshadow the opportunity. It was a rare event that she could interact with a man that would be considered a candidate.

Well, nobody considered him a candidate as of yet. Kunihiko himself for sure didn't consider himself one either. But she was going to change that.

She was serving during the funeral dinner. She had to, simply because the household just didn't have enough servant girls for that number of guests. But she made sure that she was dressed so that nobody would mistake her for one.

Such affairs were long and she had plenty time on her hands. She intended to use it to the fullest.

There was no other time she regretted more not having the Sharingan. With Sharingan's abilities, it would have been so much easier. She would have been able to better perceive his reactions. And maybe if she had the Sharingan, she would even have him steal a glimpse it – Komachi knew that an activated Sharingan in a woman was an extremely rare and precious thing. Such women were prized above all others for the potential of their offspring.

Nevertheless, even without the Sharingan, it was going well. Kunihiko caught the bait. Komachi felt almost bad. Unsuspecting puppet. But this one time she would be the one who plays. All other time everyone played her and all she did was to keep on surrendering. She could tell to herself that she held a moral higher ground, that she was perfecting her soul this way as long as she wanted and still it tasted bitter.

But none of it today. Madara's influence etched deep indeed. It stained her, it made her desire and want to be the master of her destiny. To dig with her claws into life itself. Part of her was ashamed, not recognizing her own self.

But it was either taking her fate into her hands or further downwards spiral with Madara. Komachi turned to the wall of the corridor between the reception room and the kitchen, and pressed fingers on her free hand to her forehead. Just this once. Just this once she will be selfish and manipulative. And sinful. Then she will do her penance. She will be doing her penance happily for the rest of her life, if she gets away with this plan.

This one opening to get away. One opening to push her life onto the track she desired. Desiring alone was a sin, she knew it. But the way her life was going, she was getting further and further away from the light.

Taking a deep breath Komachi turned, re-entered the reception room and approached the nearest guest offering him more sake.

It was already the sixth time that she was crossing Kunihiko's line of sight. She knew he was looking at her, she saw it in her peripheral vision. And each time she was pouring his liquor and carefully _not_ looking at him, he was staring. It was obvious from the position of his body and the way he would pause and lose track in whatever pompous monologue he was leading.

* * *

The mission was a full success – no casualties on their side and a decent pay already collected from the feudal lord. No wonder that the mood around the campfire was a relaxed one. Kunihiko was entertaining the squad with some rowdy story.

"My wife is pregnant. And my mother is so dead-set on a healthy grandson that she won't let me anywhere near her."

The company laughed. Apparently with some understanding. The superstitions ran deep, even if no one admitted it. Women sheltered themselves from the men more than they didn't. Any occasion was good – pregnancy, breastfeeding, child's sickness, a bad omen in a dream… The list was almost endless. Madara sometimes wondered if it were the women themselves that spread and supported those superstitions.

"But soon my little problem there will be solved," laughed Kunihiko palming his crotch. "I'm arranging for another wife. Fugi's widow."

"What do you want with used goods? And after Fugi out of all people?" asked someone from the circle and the rest laughed.

Kunihiko only waved his hand dismissively. "You wouldn't say that, if you saw her. I'm telling you, she is..."

Madara got up. He didn't want to hear a single word more.

* * *

"Do you love him? How can you even _like_ someone like him?" Madara couldn't keep disdain out of his voice. He didn't know which of the two irked him more: being misplaced by such a guy, or realizing Komachi's bad taste.

"Don't be silly. I don't know him."

"Then why are you even considering him?" Madara knew well enough that no one asked her opinion. Nevertheless, the fact that she could play a card of having a night visitor was clear to them both. This was truly her triumph card – had she admitted to having intercourse then the case was as good as closed – no one would risk marrying off a pregnant girl. Yet apparently, she didn't let the thing be known.

"Because I know you," Komachi answered.

He was expecting something like that, but still it hit him like a hammer. Faced with choice between Kunihiko and him she chose the former. "What is it about me that makes me so unacceptable?" Years of commanding squads were coming handy at voice control.

"That you want me so much. You'll never give me peace, you'll never leave me alone…"

"And you think he will?"

"There is a chance. He has a first wife already. He will get bored with me after his initial interest burns out. I'll do my best to make it happen, I will be as dull and uninspiring as I only can be. And then maybe I will be allowed to simply live out my days to the end in some peace."

The court lady from many years ago flashed in front of Madara's eyes. "Why do you want such a thing?" It hurt. The fact that she was finding nothing in life worth living it to the fullest, hurt like hell. It hurt so much that she saw only bleak. Nothing that he did throughout the years managed to change her opinion about it. This was even more of a fail, than the fact he didn't manage to win her love.

He pushed the personal hurt away from himself. And he won't lower himself to begging. His personal pain will wait. What hurt now is her worldview, and on this level he will keep it – detached. Philosophical. Maybe this way he will still be able to see world in the usual colours. And not through bloody red haze.

He thanked all the gods that his attention still stayed on her feelings. The moment he focuses on himself all will be lost.

"I realized I will never be able to just go and be on my own." Komachi continued. "At first it made me sad and so, so disappointed. But then, then I realized something more." She turned her face towards him and it was so bright. "It doesn't matter what I do as long as I find peace. If I go into the forest and live in a perfect seclusion – what would it be good for if in the next life I'm reborn and have to go through the same ordeal again?! So it doesn't really matter what happens to me as long as I get rid of attachments and desires, and… With you it's just impossible. You have just too many of those…"

"How can you say that?! That what you want defines who you are! Your goals, your dreams… Your desires!"

That he never could become that what she would desire. Was it his greatest defeat?

"No, it's you who can't see! Those are illusions! I wish you could get it. How should I explain? I wish everyone could get it… There will be no wars, no conflicts, no struggles anymore… No miseries like that of ours." She swung her hand in a gesture encompassing them both.

"That's not what people are, Komachi…"

"I know… I just wish there was a way…."

He went home. He managed to stay in control and on the plane of discussion that she wanted until the very end. To keep his dignity in the situation that was just pure humiliation. He managed to keep himself in check until he reached home. He managed to keep it in check when he was dragging Izuna out of bed and all the way to the training field. Then he lost it. Izuna had to pull out a kunai and use full-blown ninjutsu to fend him off. And even then, despite the flesh wounds and burns from his brother's Katon he would keep going.

* * *

He didn't know what he would have done the next day, but the gods were merciful to him. A sudden call to arms was announced. Senju force had crossed the unwritten boundary of their territory. They were attacking from two sides, one force bigger than the other. It was going to be a close call, as in direct confrontation Uchiha were repeatedly proving themselves weaker than Senju throughout last couple years. Neither was there time to send for reinforcements from any of the allied clans. They did call the Inuzuka, counting on their superior speed when riding their hounds, but it was clear that even they wouldn't make it in time.

They separated Uchiha troops – Madara went with two-thirds of the men eastwards to meet the larger Senju force. The rest, under the lead of Kato set off in the opposite direction. Kunihiko was on the other squad, being its the second in command and Madara was immensely grateful that he would be spared the view of man's face.

But when they arrived to the place of expected interception things started to go horrible wrong. The enemy wasn't there. Madara send lookouts far and wide only to find couple of scouts. Hastily tortured, they revealed that the entire Senju force had marched westwards.

Aware of the inevitable massacre of their west-force, Madara sent two out of his three messenger birds to Kato, ordering an immediate retreat, and the last bird back to the village reporting the situation and calling for reinforcing the compound.

He saw his birds flying off over the forest and prayed for the favourable winds for them. They should still reach Kato's troops in time.

What he didn't see, was that after the birds flying west disappeared from his view, tendrils on solid blackness shoot out of tree branches, and with perfect accuracy took both of the hawks down squashing them in the process.

The village was in turmoil. People were scrambling, carrying the weapons, pushing carts and chests towards west gate.

Angry looks were following Madara as he entered the compound. 'Angry' was the wrong word. Loathing. Despising. Killing intend badly supressed, so he wouldn't notice it. He was noticing well enough despite their efforts.

He didn't know what was going on. His party came back in time. The other part of the troops should also be already here. Combined, and with support of the Inuzuka, who were awaited any moment, they should fend off the Senju. If Nara decided to join up – which was questionable because the shadow-users liked to play double – their victory could even be relatively easy.

But the atmosphere in the village wasn't that of the pre-battle tension – it was close to explosion.

Izuna, who went forwards in vanguard and must have reached the compound couple of hours ago, ran up to him. "Aniki, you are being summoned to the council!"

People turned their heads away. Some got up and left.

"What's their business?"

Izuna shot a look around, estimating if the potential bystanders were far enough. "Aniki… Kato's squad… They've been annihilated. The only two survivors just died in the healers' house."

Madara pressed his lips together. "What happened?"

"They've went straight into Senju's main force."

"Why?! We've got intel about it! I've sent them a message calling them back!"

Izuna just stared. "Just go to the council."

* * *

"You knew that it was a trap yet you didn't warn them!" The elders were staring him dead on.

"I did!"

"Have you had, they would have been alive. We are all well aware of your ambitions. Didn't it suited you perfectly well to remove people who would be able to oppose you by the hand of enemy?"

"People who would be able to oppose me?" repeated Madara in slandering tone. "Who would that be exactly? I cannot imagine whom would you mean?"

"Kato. And my son." It was first time Ichiro spoke up. As far as he could tell he was only who lost a close relative among those sitting in the room.

"Your son is.." Madara bit his tongue, "was no competition to me." He hoped it sounded sincere and respectful enough. Because it wasn't, just for very different reasons. "Had I had a problem with any of them I would deal with them myself. Such underhanded methods are not my style."

He knew he had to stay focus on this debate, but his thoughts kept escaping to Komachi. If the whole village was talking about it, she surely knew it as well. What was she thinking? He didn't want even to imagine.

"Are they not? I certainly doubt that."

"That's just ridiculous. The moment I knew, I send a bird. Two actually, two my best ones." He desperately tried remembering details of setting the birds off. It was late afternoon, but for sure they managed before the dusk. At least one of them should have managed.

"We have only your words for it and the third of our troops is gone and we stand in face of disaster."

"Actually," interrupted one of the elders. "We've just got an intel that Senju forces aren't moving. Maybe they've suffered enough losses to reconsider the frontal attack."

"Or they got a sniff of the Inuzuka coming…" added another one.

"Either the way, the question remains why didn't the message make through?" Ichiro wouldn't get baffled. "Maybe you have a hidden agenda? Maybe you are cooperating with the Senju? You were caught fraternizing with a Senju boy when you were a kid…"

Madara wrought his hand into his hair. "What are you accusing me of? And on what basis?! Go and check, how many of my birds are missing!"

"Gods know what do you do with your birds! You wouldn't be below to dispose of them if it served your purpose."

Madara pursed his lips. The hawk with a twisted neck and a message to be intercepted by the Hyūgas bound to its leg flashed before his eyes.

"You don't even deny…" The elder shook his head.

"I deny withholding the intel! I've sent the message!"

"Madara, you are to remain in confinement during the investigation for treason."

Madara's jaw dropped.

"If you oppose you will only worsen your situation. Submit and we will see through this case with all objectivity."

"Like hell you will, you bastards. Who is playing a double game here? You are using that incident against me, that's what's you're doing!" Madara jumped up to his feet. Ichiro might be motivated by the personal vendetta, and such he could respect, but the others – they were just trying to get rid of him.

Ichiro gestured at the shinobi guarding the door.

"This is not going to end well," spat Madara through clenched teeth.

"Apparently not. But for you."

Madara tilted his head and grinned. Even after all this time he was underestimated. He won't kill the elders, he will keep them alive, bound and with no support so they can watch his triumph. To see him as the head of clan. He will make them bow.

He dodged the strike of one of the guards, and kicked another one straight in the chest. They both fell limply, already under his genjutsu before they hit the ground. The third one went at him with a kunai and Madara's punch to the side of his head most probably broke his neck. Madara spun and looked at the elders. Three of them, including Ichiro reacted correctly – by escaping. Two others, older ones were staring. Wrong choice – they both fell face down trapped in his genjutsu. Madara hesitated – he could pursue and incapacitate the other ones. But that would develop into a full-blown fight.

Or he could go to Komachi.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and please tell me what do you think about this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 8**

* * *

AN: If someone hasn't realized yet that this is going to be a tragedy – here's the final warning: it's gonna be one…

* * *

Madara rushed out. These old farts were of lesser relevance. He will deal with them later. Now it was only Komachi who was on his mind. Komachi and the preconceived notions she must be already carrying. Komachi and that what she was, in this very instance, thinking of him.

Madara roof-hopped – something that was a total no-go in the compound, at least among the adults. This was considered an action to be performed on enemy's territory, but Madara didn't care.

He sprinted towards the gates on Komachi's household, pushed the gate wide open and ran inside. Already on the courtyard surprised shouts followed him. He ran up to the main house, rushed in, made a servant girl trip and fall over. The upheaval was rising. He turned towards eastern wing, where Komachi's housing was.

"Hey, Madara! Where are you going!" Waraku was running towards him through the yard.

"None of your business."

"Hey, wait up! Madara, what's up with you?" Waraku grabbed his sleeve laughing.

"Out of my way." He pushed the younger boy stronger than he intended and Waraku toppled.

Waraku stayed on the ground staring at him in incomprehension. Madara didn't have time for that – he rushed forwards. He didn't see that couple of seconds later Waraku scrambled back on his feet and started towards Izuna's house.

He was running down a long corridor. An elderly woman in black kimono stepped out of the side room. He recognized Waraku's grandmother. She saw him running but she didn't move back, as others did. She stepped deliberately into his path. A last spark of drilled-in respect to the elders had him to halt and not to topple the old woman.

"Where do you think you're going? These are women's quarters," she said with such an emotionless calm that it would have him reconsider his behaviour if he wasn't so riled up.

Madara willed his Sharingan to deactivate and his hands to remain at his sides. But he was still seeing red, even with Sharingan off.

"A hundred thousand ryo for the woman in the eastern house," he spat out. "And my name to her. Do you accept the offer?"

The older woman glared at him, he didn't know if in incomprehension or indignation. He didn't care. He sidestepped and started running again.

* * *

He barged in. Komachi was standing in the middle of the room, she must have heard the commotion. Her eyes were red from crying but her gaze was stone.

"I thought I knew you." She said through clenched throat. "That I knew what to expect from you. That there are certain borders which you will never breach. But I was wrong. There are no borders for you."

"I didn't kill him."

Komachi didn't answer, only shook her head.

"I didn't!" he screamed. "You have to believe me! At least you!"

"Oh, really? And what else do I have to do? What else would you force me to do?!"

"I didn't kill them. I didn't kill him. I've sent the bird."

"You're so obsessed you wouldn't stop from nothing. You are a cold-blooded murderer. But now you overdid it – you killed because of me! You made me involved! You made me responsible! How dared you!" Komachi wrung hands in her hair.

"I didn't…" Was the only thing Madara could say. His heart felt like breaking, he wanted to cry, like back then, when he was a child and was helpless against terrible things happening to him.

Only now he wasn't a child. He wasn't helpless. He was trying so hard, all those years. Trying, and trying, and waiting for her acceptance. And she turned her back to him, she betrayed him. And now she was accusing him falsely. Like everyone else was. Spite was rising in Madara. He was so done with playing nicely. So done.

He grabbed Komachi by her shoulders. She tried to wring out but she couldn't. "I've had enough. I've had enough of asking and waiting. I'm taking you with me. Whatever will be the price for you, I'll pay it."

Komachi stared at him in mute bewilderment. "No…" she whispered finally, shaking her head. "No! No!" She swayed in his hold and when their eyes connected hers were no longer black. Single tomoes spun among exactly same red he had seen in the eyes of his comrades so many times.

But it wasn't changing anything. He grabbed her arm and directed her to the door.

"Will you have me as a will-less doll? Would you put me under genjutsu? You will have to each time you want to fuck me. That or rape. Do you want it?"

"I will never let go off you."

"If you do it, you will have my eternal hate. I don't want to hate you. I'm still holding on, I'm still not hating you… But if you do it… You were always saying that you want to leave the choice to me. Then do it."

Madara halted and looked at her. "I cannot let you go." He forced his fingers to open to release her arm and looked at his hand as if seeing it for the first time. "I cannot… I cannot go on living knowing that you are somewhere and you're not mine."

Komachi's expression was turning more and more into fear. "You can… you can let go… I don't make you happy. It won't make you happy to hold me against my will. If you let go of me, you will be a bigger man. That is an attachment that makes you lesser. Let go of it. You'll be free of me. I'm nothing but a curse to you."

"I cannot!" Madara bit at his own arm, to the blood. The pain sobered him up a tiny bit. He looked at her, and through the haze of rage he saw a girl that he loved. Scared, with tear-stained cheeks, but still so lovely. This face he wanted to see every day of his live. Madara shook his head. _'No, don't think about it. Don't think about your own desires. Think what you want for her. Think that you don't want to hurt her.'_ But the waves of anger and being wronged were breaking over him, dragging him into the deep.

"Choice." He grunted. "You wanted choice." He grasped at his kunai poach. His fingers were clutching frantically at the clasp, suddenly too clumsy to open it. _'Hurry, hurry, I won't hold against these waves much longer.'_

He managed to rip one kunai out. He pressed it into Komachi's hand. "You wanted choice. Then have it. I cannot live without you. But I'll let you decide. Kill me and you'll be free of me." He undid the straps and let the armor fall on the floor. "Here," he pointed to his chest. "Here's the heart."

Komachi shook her head. "I can never…"

Anger was rising up again in Madara. He needed to direct it someplace else. "You wanted to be stronger! To decide about your life! There!" he pointed to his chest. "That's how you decide about your life! No one will serve you your freedom on a silver platter. You have to fight for it. What did you imagine, that it will come without a price? You wanted to be stronger. That's what the stronger ones do – they kill!"

Komachi just shook her head voicelessly. She was a white as fine paper.

"To scared to do it into my face? Alright." Madara turned. "Stab me in the back then."

He felt Komachi's hand landing on his shoulder.

It was always his fear – that someone would get his back. Now, standing facing away from her he felt strangely calm. Was it that 'letting go' that Komachi spoke about? "To die stabbed in the back by a friend?" Madara hoped he could call her at least a friend, after all they've been through. "That's a kind end. A blessing. I will consider it a blessing. Go on."

"I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" he asked softly.

"I'm just disappointed with myself. I should have been able to subject to you. To endure you. But I cannot… I'm still too selfish. I don't manage to bend. I'm so ashamed. And with this sin for sure I will be reborn. I was too proud thinking the enlightenment was within my reach, I got caught up in your inferno."

"My inferno? You are the only fire I've ever felt."

"I'm sorry… I just cannot otherwise…"

"Just do it. I don't really mind."

Silence and a sob.

"Do it!" he screamed.

She steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Madara closed his eyes. _'I'm making her unhappy and that's the only way to stop it.'_

He felt her adhere to his back, felt the softness of her breasts. And then he felt as the right side of her torso stiffened as she took a swing with the blade.

 _'_ _That's not how you do it… I've shown you, haven't I?'_ That was his last thought before things went horribly astray. The sound of torn flesh didn't get accompanied with pain. Instead, Komachi went limp and heavy against his back as she started to slide down.

Madara spun and caught her in half. That what his brain had already figured out before he had turned, was now before his eyes. Knowing what he would see didn't make it any less horrifying.

Blood was gushing in a swift stream out of the wound on Komachi's neck. Bright red – she hit the artery spot on – some strange, alien part of Madara's brain registered with approval.

He didn't know when he got on his knees with Komachi splayed across his lap. He pressed both hands to the wound, but it was pointless. Streams of warm crimson were trickling between his fingers.

Her arms fell limply to the sides but she tried still to hold her head somewhat up. She was palling before his eyes. She kept looking at him, but it didn't seem as she wanted to say anything. Madara watched in morbid fright. It was his fault. It was all his fault.

Komachi stroke along his leg and when he later would think about it, he wanted to believe that it was supposed to be a comforting touch.

Sharingan in Komachi's eyes faded to black, and her eyelids fluttered half-shut. She stopped breathing.

Blood was no longer flowing along his arms.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and I'm very curious to hear what your reactions! I'm pretty sure that everyone had already suspected _what_ was going to happen (i.e. Komachi dying), but I would love to know _how_ you imagined it was going to happen? Was is very different from what you expected?


	9. Chapter 9

**Awakening**

 **Chapter 9**

* * *

Izuna slid the screen open. And froze. In the middle of the room Madara was kneeling holding a girl in his arms. A very bloodied and very still girl. His brother wasn't looking at him, his gazed fixed on the features of the girl. Of the dead girl. Of her corpse. The blood had already soaked through her clothes and most of those of Madara as well. A kunai was still in the girl's clenched hand.

His brother didn't seem to perceive anything from the surroundings, but he must have noticed alright when the inhabitants of the house tried to break in. A half-ring of flames was forming the barrier between Madara and the door. The flames were black and looked almost liquid, greasy, as if made out of some weird oil. Izuna could now comprehend the origin of horrible screams and the stench of burning flesh he registered running through the house.

Those screams will surely alarm the guards that were already scrambling around the compound, looking for Madara. Some of them even tried to get hold on Izuna on his way here, but upon learning their intentions he knocked them out with genjutsu.

"Aniki!" Madara didn't react. "Aniki!" It was a waste of time. Izuna had enough imagination not to try breaching those black flames. Instead he backed into the room he came from, kicked through the wall to create an opening to the garden, and got on the porch. "Waraku, this way! I need your help."

Izuna traversed the porch and carefully stepped into the room.

Now he could see clearly, what before seemed to him just a quirk of perception created by flame and smoke. A strange blue luminescence was surrounding his brother. He stepped carefully towards Madara but when he reached the light, he was stopped, like by a barrier.

He circumvented it, stepping slowly not to trigger aggression and could only pray that his brother was sane enough to recognize him. "Aniki. It's me. Do you hear me?" He was stepping slowly, but in reality, he knew he wouldn't be able to dodge the fire jutsu. Not in these close quarters. Those black flames were not spreading as standard fire-release technique. Something was really off with them. It would be really bad to be caught in them. With the corner of his eye Izuna noticed that Waraku prudently stayed behind.

"Aniki." He circled around Madara so that he was in the line of his sight. Izuna reached towards the barrier and this time his hand passed through it. The bizarre light flickered and disappeared. Izuna grabbed Madara's hand prompting him to let go of the girl. No luck, Madara's grasp was as iron bars.

In the end Izuna thought he must have dislocated his brother's fingers to have him release the girl. They dragged him out of the house and then, sneaking through the most obscure passages, out of the village. Madara was offering only passive resistance but he was heavy. Much taller than Izuna himself, not to mention Waraku who always been meager.

"Aniki, please, let's keep moving."

Madara lifted his head. "Shrine." He croaked. "I will go to the shrine."

Izuna shook his head – it made no sense. The way to the shrine was steep and ended blindly under the rock face under which the shrine was nested. But Madara, staggering and pulling Waraku with him was already heading that direction.

"Why there? Let's head east, where the forest spreads furthest. It will be easier to lose the pursuit."

Madara didn't even look at him. "Aniki!"

Madara was climbing the mossy steps.

.

Madara staggered into the shrine. He bowed, clapped twice and with folded hands fixed his gaze in the darkness of the honden. His brother was never a particularly religious man, but Izuna knew what he wanted now. In the monstrosity of his deed Madara wanted to hear the god, because the thunderous whisper of the kami was the only thing that could reach his mind right now.

Madara was staring into the darkness with despair on his face. But then something in his face shifted. Izuna followed his brothers gaze – Madara was no longer praying – he was… _reading_? He was reading the script on the sacred tablet – the embodiment the kami of the Uchiha clan. _'But nobody is able to read that… Nobody's supposed to…'_ registered Izuna with confusion.

Horror was becoming evident in Madara's widened eyes. He propped himself on the fencing as if not longer capable of standing on his own. And sank on his knees.

"Aniki! What's wrong?! We need to go!"

Madara only laughed. He sounded absolutely derailed. "Power," he whispered as if to himself. "I gained power. I benefited from it!" he screamed wringing hands into his hair.

Only now Izuna noticed that the blood on his cheeks was fresh and it couldn't have been from the girl. His brother's eyes were weeping blood, but he was failing to notice it.

Izuna knelt in front of his brother. "Madara." Never in his life had he omitted the honorific in respect to his brother before. Now Izuna felt he had to – he needed to take responsibility for him. He needed to act like an elder. He held Madara's face between his palms. "Snap out of it!"

Madara looked at him with strange expression on his face - a mix between disgust, despair and morbid fascination. "It says, that you gain power. Through killing the one you love."

"Power? What power? Would that power get us out of this mess? If not, then please get up and let's go!"

Madara paid him very little heed. "Invincible, spectral guardian… Black flames that consume everything…" He was now inspecting the blood on his fingers, the old dried one and fresh that he had just wiped from his eyes.

Guardian? Black flames? The memory of the destruction he witnessed in Waraku's house flashed in Izuna's mind.

But he didn't have much time to ponder upon his brother's words as Waraku rushed in, panting. "Izuna! They're coming! They found us!"

"How many?"

"Looks like the entire clan? And I heard barking so it may be that the Inuzuka had arrived as well."

"Always happy to join a hunt, aren't they?" Izuna attempted to joke. But it sounded all wrong. It was a hunt. A manhunt. Izuna swallowed audibly and considered the situation. "Go to them, Waraku. They are not after you. They don't even now you're here. There is no need to drag you into it. Change sides."

"Are you crazy?! I'm not leaving you! I won't watch you die. No way."

"That's insanity! Why would you even?"

"Why? Because I'm just selfish like that…" Smiled Waraku. "I might have been lucky enough not to see any of my family killed, but I've seen what it has done to you and Madara."

"Waraku, you can't even be any help!"

"You mean I'll be a burden? I'll try not to. Maybe I can take down one or two? So you manage to flee? Then my death won't be.."

"Your death?! What about those plans about travelling to the seaside and finding a girl? A girl with red hair, remember?"

"Ah, those? Those were crackpot ideas, Izuna… Last couple of months I realized that nothing from my dreams will come to pass."

Izuna bit his lip. He didn't want to outright lie to his friend, offer empty and false consolations.

"I'm useless. I thought I could help in the workshop, but with one hand… it doesn't work."

"You could find something else? Like if someone constructed a vice, so that the piece holds, then you could engrave it, or something…" The absurdity of this conversation in their current situation, with enemy closing down on them, almost made Izuna laugh.

"For whom? No one needs fancy things. All our weapons are plain." A very plain-looking kunai landed in front of him as in confirmation. "Everyone regards me as dead weight. Mother doesn't even want me to leave the house because she's afraid someone will bully me."

"I'll kill them if they dare!"

"I don't think you will have a chance, Izuna."

"Waraku! Run now!"

"No. I'm not leaving you."

Izuna's breath shortened. He felt rising anger. At his clansmen, at fate, at the world. For putting him in this situation.

"So. Now we fight." Waraku smiled. "Thank you, Izuna, for buying me those couple of months. Those've been good months. Those've been good years, with you."

Izuna wondered how could Waraku be so serene. Probably because he knew that his fight was lost. But Izuna had too much to fight for to allow himself to lose. Madara was still in the inner shrine. Izuna glanced back - his brother was still kneeling in front of the honden, palms dug into the ground, head hanging down.

Kunai whizzed by Izuna's ear. Then another. Izuna's Sharingan activated automatically. He could see the squad between the trees already. From the sounds, he could guess that right and left other two squads were encircling them to get to Madara.

He glimpsed back. Madara was still motionless on the gallery in front of the worship hall. _'Like a sitting duck'_ thought Izuna.

Onslaught of metal forced his to focus at the enemies in front of him. He pulled out his kunai and deflected couple of shuriken.

 _'_ _It's getting real.'_ Izuna formed hand seals and released a powerful Wind gust. Projectiles flying in their direction whirled in the air and dispersed, neutralized.

If he could mix his Fūton with Katon, like when fighting alongside Madara…

"Waraku give me Fire! At three! One, two…"

"Izuna." Waraku put his only hand down. "I can't. I can't form seals with one hand. I haven't yet managed to learn..."

"Damn!" Izuna sent a Fireball in the direction of the opponents. Some trees caught fire but he didn't' think he got any of the attackers. Leaves were dense and green and the forest still wet after yesterday's storm. "Shit! It won't even burn! They will just shoot us down. At some point we won't dodge something."

 _'_ _Dodge.'_ In panic Izuna looked back. Madara won't be dodging anything.

Like in slow motion he saw kunai flying in his brother's direction. He knew it will hit him the moment it left the bushes. He could see the trajectory and he couldn't shield his brother. With a sickening sound the blade dug into Madara's arm. "Nii-san!" But even then Madara didn't react.

Next to him Waraku swung kunai aiming at the approaching projectile. Blade went through thin air and shuriken flew unhindered right into stump of Waraku's arm.

"Waraku! What are you doing?! Parry!"

"I'm trying! But I can't judge the distance!" Anxiety creeped into Waraku's voice. "It's 'cause I'm missing an eye. I cannot see the distance!"

Familiar panic was back in Waraku's voice. He sounded like back then, when they were nine and first time on the battlefield.

 _"_ _We're not making it. We're all going to die here."_ Sudden realization fell on Izuna.

Another sound of torn flesh reached Izuna's ears. This time from behind. He was too terrified to look back and check on Madara. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

A second shuriken hit Waraku.

 _'_ _What do I do?! What should I do?!_ ' He could maybe still escape with Waraku. Maybe he could shield him enough that they both survive. But then Madara… Or he might… He might… _'Invincible guardian? I sure need an invincible guardian if I'm to stand against the entire clan. And the inextinguishable fire to burn this damn forest down.'_

Another kunai was coming, flying straight into Waraku's chest. Straight into the vital point. Izuna flash-stepped in front of Waraku. Kunai bounced off the armour he was still wearing.

Waraku's eyes were huge, wide with animalistic fear.

Izuna wound one arm around Waraku's neck. Held him the closest he could. "I'm sorry. I have to choose before it's too late. I'm so sorry…" And he plunged kunai into Waraku's chest.

.

All the objects had sharper edges. He could see minute cracks in grains of gravel under his feet, jagged edges of leaves on trees tens of meters away. Tiny insects and specks of dust in the air were suddenly so dense that Izuna wondered how did he manage to go on breathing until now. White flower by the path had shining marking around the centre in a colour Izuna didn't have a name for.

And all this through the haze of awful, gut-wrenching nausea. He dry-heaved and saw thick drops of blood falling down, drippling from his face. He saw them from above, how the surface of each drop undulated when it was tearing its way through the air.

And then he looked even lower, at Waraku's dead body still propped against him, as if his friend was leaning onto him…

Somewhere in his head something howled at the monstrosity of what he'd just done. He wanted to throw himself on Waraku's corpse and cradle him as Madara cradled that girl. To wail and weep and scream his lungs out.

Another part of him was telling him to lock all feeling away and go get his brother. To make use of the sacrifice in front of him.

Yet another, the most disturbing and alien part of him was watching with sickening fascination how the blood seeping from Waraku's wound was getting colder. Because out of sudden he could tell the temperature just by looking…

He carefully lowered Waraku to the ground. Wiping the kunai on the leg of his trousers Izuna shoved all the unnecessary thoughts out of his head.

He turned and blew a chakra-loaded Katon jutsu in the direction of the trees. The flames that came out of his mouth were jet-black and the forest became full of screams. But Izuna paid it no heed.

The only thing important now was his brother and getting him out of here.

He stepped through the tori. No cleansing would help him now. The pollution he carried was much heavier and more disgusting than blood staining his clothes.

He marched toward the shrine, stepped around kneeling Madara still caught up in his own nightmare. He stepped over the railing and entered the sacrum. No sacrilege was more awful than what he had already done, so Izuna didn't care. Inside the honden, the sacred tablet stood in the darkness. No priest could decipher more than separate broken words. Until now. Because now Izuna could read. And read he did; he read about the Uchiha's origin, the powers that awaken through pain and despair, the terrible price required in exchange… About their clan's ultimate destiny.

When he walked out of the building he was surrounded with a spectral skeleton of a giant warrior.

He came up to Madara, wound his brother's arm around his shoulder and picked him up.

"Aniki. Get up. Stand up." Madara staggered on his legs but Izuna held him firmly. "I have the same power as you now. And now we fight."

Madara finally spared him some attention.

"Fight. Survive. Live on," pressed Izuna. "I know you don't want to, but if anything, consider this: she won't be happy to see you now. She had just evaded you, you'll only end up following her where she escaped. This power, this is a gift from her. Unwilling gift, but gift none the less. Make use of it."

"She had given me many unwilling gifts…"

Izuna thought that he didn't want to know of what kind had those other gifts been. "Don't make in be in vain. She for sure wished for things. For you, for others. You have a chance to make her wishes come true, whatever they were. You are alive and you have more power than ever. Don't make her death be in vain."

* * *

AN: So, this is it! Thank you to all that read, favourited, reviewed and talked to me - it helped me so much!

Please let me know your thoughts about this last chapter and/or the fic in general!


	10. Chapter 10

I've just published a small oneshot featuring Madara and Komachi. So if someone is interested in reading about some form of closure between those two, now it's available :)


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